


Be My Guest

by miss_janey



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Inspired by a Movie, KaraMel, POV First Person, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-01-25 22:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 68,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12542516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_janey/pseuds/miss_janey
Summary: Kara's cousin is getting married, and she needs a date to save face in front of her jerk ex-boyfriend. Her roommate's obnoxious brother steps up to the challenge, although, falling in love with him was not in her plans.AU Where they're all human. Kara and Lena are best friends. Lena and Mon-El are step-siblings. Rhea and Lillian got married when they were kids, after divorcing Lar and Lionel. They all know each other since childhood. Basically, they're all one big happy family. Loosely based on the 2005 movie "The Wedding Date".-





	1. June 24, 2019

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my lovelies!  
> Okay, so... here it is. My first multi-chapter.  
> Bear with me, I'll do my best to keep the updates coming.  
> Unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine.  
> Enjoy!!!

_Ugh, I hate this!_

My right leg bounces up and down relentlessly. I can’t seem to sit still. I twiddle with the leather band of my pale pink wristwatch. I release my hairpins and re-do my hair in three different styles before finally opting to just leaving it down, with my curls hanging softly on my shoulders. My nails are being bitten down to the roots and my heel’s about to dig a hole in the ground. Snapper called me to his office ten minutes ago. I absolutely hate having to wait. I am way too impatient. I just want to know whether I got the promotion I have worked so hard for, or not.

I have been working at CatCo Media ever since I graduated from college. I had interned for them during my senior year, and was utterly delighted when they decided to give me a full time job. At first I was just an assistant for the big boss; I was the girl who made the coffee and picked up the phone, but soon my passion and dedication for saving the world one life at a time became evident, and it helped me become closer to the one and only Cat Grant herself. Being a reporter is pretty much my dream job. I hate being cooped up for hours on end, and with this career I get to spend lots of time going out there, getting my hands dirty, and actually helping people. _A real-life hero._

This has led me to where I am today, sitting outside Snapper’s office waiting to discover if I am to become the new News Senior Editor of CatCo Magazine. This promotion would put me in charge of an entire department, and although it feels a little bit scary, I am also so ready for it. It would be a lot of work and at twenty-seven years old I would be one of the youngest people to hold the position, but it is a challenge I am more than willing to take on.

As I wait, I fret about how my interview went three days ago. Maybe I should have spent less time talking about ways to attract younger readers to the magazine and more time on how I would maintain the ones we already have. What if I came across as too keen, too desperate? I shake my head to try and rid it from these thoughts. Whatever I did, it's done. There is nothing I can change about it now. I have worked my ass off to get here. After the heartache I went through after college graduation I have focused on nothing else but work. My social life has suffered a little as a result but it will be worth it if I get this promotion. I know I am the best person for it. I deserve it.

After a few more seconds, Snapper’s secretary, to my left, clears her throat.

“Mr. Snapper is ready to see you now,” she states.

I take a deep breath, nod my head at her and try to compose myself. I get up and enter the Editor-in-Chief’s office as calmly as I can. I sit on the chair opposite Snapper, hoping against hope I’m successfully masking my nerves.

Snapper has been one of the longest serving employees at CatCo. He, like me, came straight out of college and by now is in his early fifties. Some people find him a bit stern –and he is– but I have never had a problem with him. We have a mutual understanding and respect for each other, probably due to both our devotion to old-school journalism and the search for the truth.

I look at him anxiously, trying to gage my fate by searching his features. However, he gives nothing away. His face is a complete blank.

“Well, Miss Danvers, you have been a very loyal and valued employee for us over the last couple of years. Your enthusiasm and hard work is hard to match. Frankly, there was no decision to be made. We would be fools not to promote you,” he says stoically.

My rapidly beating heart slows as I let his words sink in.

“I got the job?” I ask a bit stupefied, hoping I have not misunderstood his words.

“Yes, Danvers. You start your new position in August,” he replies with a calm demeanor.

Relief followed by excitement rushes through me and I have to restrain myself from lunging across the desk and hugging him. I swear the smile on my face can be seen all the way from the moon.

“Thank you so much! You won't regret this decision, sir. I won't let you down,” I say gratefully.

Snapper gives me a small smile before clasping my right hand in his.

“I have no doubt that you will do a great job. Make sure you enjoy yourself tonight, Danvers, you have a lot of hard work ahead of you,” he says while shaking my hand.

“I will,” I reply as I try to contain my excitement until I get outside the building. “Thank you so much again for this opportunity.”

Snapper ushers me out the door while I continue to grin like an idiot. All my hard work has paid off. He is right. I need to celebrate this tonight.

* * *

 

Two hours later, I push open the heavy metal door to the large loft apartment that I share with my best friend, Lena. I clutch a bottle of champagne under one arm as I place the rest of my stuff on the nearby kitchen table. Lena must be in her room as the living area is empty when I enter. However, the sound of my arrival is enough to draw her out and she stares at me expectantly when she enters.

“So…” she begins to ask curiously. “How did it go?”

Unable to hide my excitement any longer I break into a huge grin and pull out the hidden champagne bottle –which has a big red ribbon on it– from behind my back.

“I got it! I got the job!” I exclaim as I let my excitement bubble over. Lena’s eyes widen in delight and she too breaks into a grin before making her way over to me to give me a hug.

“Congratulations, Kara! I knew you would get it,” she says as I return her embrace.

I thank her as we break apart, and move to pull out two glasses for the champagne from the kitchen cabinet. I pop open the bottle and pour the drinks, careful to not spill the fizzy bubbles, and hand a flute to Lena.

“Here’s to you and your new job!” she exclaims raising her champagne glass and clinking it with mine. We both take a sip and I savor the taste of the sweet bubbles fizzing in my mouth. Lena looks thoughtful as she puts her empty glass down. “We have to go out and celebrate tonight. You know Alex will kill you if we don't,” she says.

I nod my head in response. I don't normally like going out to bars and getting drunk. There is normally work that needs to be done and I don't see the point of making yourself feel ill in an effort to have a good time. But tonight I am in the mood to let loose a little bit –let my hair down, so to speak. This is too exciting to just stay in and do nothing.

“Definitely,” I state with confidence.

Lena squeals as she jumps on me. I laugh at her enthusiasm.

“Great! I'm calling Alex and Eve. It's been too long!” she shrieks before darting off to grab her phone. I continue to smile. I want to have fun tonight. I deserve it.

Lena and I have been best friends ever since I can remember. We grew up in Midvale next door to each other, hopping between each other's houses, and we bonded over a shared love for science and reading. She is almost like another sister to me. It was only natural that we moved in together during our college years. We have been roommates since sophomore year and, if it is even possible, we have become even closer. She is the only person outside my family that I truly trust.

Nonetheless, I don't know how much longer our current living arrangement is going to last. Things are getting serious with Lena's boyfriend, Jack. I suspect that it won't be long before he asks her to move in with him –or even worse… to marry him. I really like Jack and he makes Lena really happy, but I am not looking forward to the day he takes her away. It was hard enough when they first began dating. It was the first time I really had to share Lena. We spent so much time together it was difficult when she started to spend more time with him. Still, she is really good at splitting her time between the two of us and deep down I know she is not one of those girls who forgets about her friends just because she has a boyfriend.

The only other friend we still have from high school is Eve. Lena and I weren't popular in school, mainly due to our quiet and geeky nature. Eve was the complete opposite, she was a bubbly ray of sunshine, spreading good wishes and pixie dust wherever she went; although always found among the popular crowd, Eve is one of those people who is nice to everyone and would always greet us when she passed us in the corridor. We all became really good friends after she was partnered with Lena in a science project. We just couldn't shake her after that. She would stop and chat to us as if we had all been best friends since kindergarten. It turns out she had always admired our couldn't-care-less attitude and we enjoyed the new dynamic she gave to our group. Lena and I became a bit more outgoing as a result of our friendship with her.

Our other close friend is my big sister, Alex. We all grew up together and have been hanging around each other since infancy. I love Alex with all my heart, I am so proud to be her sister. She’s the best family anyone could get.

I realize that what Lena said is true, we haven't all gotten together in a very long time. This is mainly my fault, as I have been so caught up in work and getting this promotion. A girls night out is long overdue.

Lena comes back through the door and states that we are meeting the girls in an hour, before she drags me to her room to get ready. Apparently, I can’t wear a black pencil skirt to a dive bar.

* * *

 

What seems like hours later and having been poked and prodded by a range of brushes, I stand in front of Lena's full length mirror in a navy backless knee-length dress. Lena continues to put the finishing touches to my golden tresses, curling a few errand strands around my face. I don't normally dress up, and my wardrobe consists of mainly appropriate office attires, but I feel good in this dress. It doesn't put too much on show and I come across as sexy, yet classy and elegant. However, I don't know for how long I will be able to maintain this image if I am going out with Alex tonight.

“Thanks, Lena. You've made me look great,” I say turning back to look at her. Lena smiles back at me.

“No problem! Maybe this will end your single rut. I think that if you spent less time in your dull work clothes, the guys would be falling at your feet,” she says with a pointed look. I shake my head at her.”

“Maybe I don't want them throwing themselves at my feet,” I reply. “Men aren't worth the time.”

“You know… not every guy you meet is going to hurt you,” Lena states.

“Previous experience suggests otherwise,” I counter. “Not everyone can have a Jack Spheer in our lives.”

Lena doesn’t push me any further but looks at me sadly. She knows why I don't date. Not since my last boyfriend. And besides, with this new job I won't have time for anyone else in my life. And I like it that way.

While Lena puts the finishing touches to her own hair and makeup the doorbell rings. Lena and I both stare at each other confused. We aren't expecting anyone. “It’s probably Eve deciding to meet us here, instead,” I say. “You finish getting ready, I'll get it.”

Lena thanks me and goes back to applying her makeup. I pick myself up off of her bed and make my way to answer our door. I open it to be greeted by floppy dark hair, greyish blue eyes and a cart load of baggage.

“How many months’ rent did you owe this time?” I ask with a sigh. I step to the side to let Mon-El in.

“Only one, I swear!” Mon-El replies way too cheerily for someone who has just been made homeless.

He dumps his many bags on the ground before flinging himself onto the couch. Hearing his voice, Lena makes her way out. “Mon-El?” she asks a little confused.

As soon as she spots the bags on the ground, she knows instantly what has happened. She gives him an exasperated look as she places a hand on her hip. “You should have called first,” she sighs disapprovingly.

“Hey, sis! Nice to see you, too,” Mon-El replies with a grin. “Thought it would be a nice surprise to just turn up. It's been a while, don’t you think?”

Lena shakes her head at him and tells him not to eat everything in the fridge before heading back to her room to get her things for tonight. I sigh. It looks like Mon-El is going to be staying with us, again.

Mon-El is Lena’s step-brother. Their mothers got married when they were both five years old. And although they were raised as siblings, they are very different people. While Lena is quiet and reserved, Mon-El is the definition of a talker. Lena and I often struggle to articulate our thoughts, but Mon-El just has a way with words. Charming, smart and a self-depreciating sense of humor that has made him popular in every aspect of his life so far. He majored in art at college, and ever since he graduated, he has struggled to get by through selling his paintings. He’s really good but maybe a bit traditional. Lots of landscapes and scenes of dogs playing in the park. The majority of art buffs in this town want something more abstract. As a result, he has always found it hard to get a regular income. This means that more often than not he is short on rent money. Whenever this unfortunate event occurs, he ends up sleeping on our couch until he has the sufficient funds to get his own place again.

He and Lena are really close. They speak to each other several times a day and are always there when the other needs them. They have one older brother, Lex, but since he lives in the neighboring town of Metropolis, with his own family, Mon-El doesn't like to impose on him, so he always ends up staying with us. I tolerate him because he is Lena’s brother and he makes a killer breakfast: waffles, hash browns, poached eggs, pancakes… all my favorites. And the truth is, Mon-El is like family to me as well. I don't have a brother, just my older sister, and Mon-El is the closest thing I have to one. As I spent so much time with Lena growing up, that meant I also spent a lot of time around Mon-El. When we were little he used to terrorize Lena and I while we were playing in their backyard, or he would hide our favorite toys in places we couldn't reach. He was so annoying. As we got older, he would tease us like any brother would to his little sisters, about studying too much and boys. Not that it was one sided. Lena and I often played pranks on him, and embarrassed him in front of the girls he brought home. Now, we still all tease each other, but it is always good natured and we all get on reasonably well.

Mon-El, still sitting on the couch, has finally taken in my getup for the evening. He eyes me up and down, and looks a little shocked and amused.

“Damn, Danvers. What’s the occasion?” he asks.

“I got a promotion at work,” I say proudly. “Going out with the girls tonight to celebrate.”

Mon-El likes the sound of this and sits up straighter on the couch, an excited smile on his face. “Congratulations!” he gets up from his perch and gives me a hug. “Lena mentioned you were up for promotion. Anyone who works as hard as you deserves it,” he says genuinely pleased for me, moving back to look smilingly at me, and winks. “Just give me five minutes and I'll be ready to go.”

I look at him shocked. “It’s girls’ night out. You're not invited,” I state firmly.

He gives me his best puppy dog stare. “Come on!” he pleads adorably –though I’d never admit that he looks adorable. “I've just been made homeless! I need to be cheered up, Danvers!”

“You have no money to pay for your drinks,” I point out.

"Please," he begs putting his hands together. “I’ll make you chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast in the morning if you let me come. What do you say?”

Argh, he knows his cooking is my weakness. I can already hear my stomach rumbling at the thought of eating his culinary inventions.

“Fine,” I concede and point a finger at him. “But you’ll be cooking your entire stay, do you understand?”

“Deal! It’s the least I could do, anyways,” he replies sticking out his hand for me to shake. I take it and he grips mine firmly. “Now, just give me a sec.”

He begins frantically searching through his bags for something suitable to wear. Lena comes into the living room and looks confused at what Mon-El is doing. She looks at me questioningly. “Mon-El's coming out with us tonight,” I explain.

Lena looks a little surprised but smiles and shrugs her shoulders to show she is not bothered. Once Mon-El has found something to wear, we pack up and leave the apartment. His hand on my lower back guiding my way out protectively.

* * *

 

We enter the dimly lit bar, called 'The DEO', to find Alex and Eve already there with cocktails in hand. We have been coming here for about four years now, and I still don’t know what its name stands for. ‘Drinks, Entertainment and Overly-Loud-Music’ would be my first guess. It is not the fanciest place in town, but the friendly staff and warm atmosphere keep us coming back.

Eve waves at us as we get inside and we make our way over to them with Mon-El in tow. As we reach their side, she hops off her high stool to pull me in for a tight hug. “Congratulations!” she squeals in a high pitch. “Senior Editor, wow!!! That’s so huge!”

I smile gratefully and thank her while Alex pushes a tequila sunrise in front of me –she won’t let me stick to club soda tonight. “Well done, baby sis. I’m so proud of you,” she says to me while hugging me tightly to her side.

I thank her and briefly relay how nervous I was today. After the remaining pleasantries and congratulations are exchanged, Alex seemingly notices Mon-El for the first time. “What are you doing here, hot cakes? Didn't know you cared about my little sister so much,” she drawls.

Mon-El grins and throws an arm around my shoulders. “Kara here is like a little sister to me, too. Wouldn't want to miss out. That, and the fact I was late on rent again and evicted. I needed a good old pick me up," he replies cheekily, taking a slurp of my drink. I look at him annoyed for taking it without my permission.

“Too bad, Gand. I’d offer you a commission to paint me in the nude, since I've got a lot of surplus cash around at the moment,” Alex says leaning towards him challengingly. It’s obvious she’s got a few drinks on her already. “But I don’t think my girlfriend would appreciate it much.”

Mon-El tilts his head back and laughs. “It’s fine. Besides, I wouldn't want you to feel awkward around me,” he replies jokingly.

“Ha, you wish! If you saw what’s underneath these clothes, you wouldn't be able to look at me without blushing.”

Everyone laughs. Alex is very open about her sexuality, ever since finding Maggie and learning to be comfortable in her own skin. She often makes jokes about sex and nudity. I, on the other hand, am a bit of a prude. I think people’s sex lives are something that should be kept private. I even find it hard to talk about it with my own sister.

I manage to steer the conversation away from sex by asking Eve about how her shop is doing. She owns a small shoe boutique in the merchant quarter of the town. The shop has really taken off in the last couple of years because of her fashionable and affordable designs. Eve takes the bait and begins excitedly telling me about the new line of shoes she’s been working on for the summer collection.

This evening is the perfect way to celebrate my new position. I catch up on all that I have missed the last couple of weeks while I have thrown myself into getting this promotion. I laugh at Eve’s stories of annoying customers and at Alex’s rant about the increasing crime rates in the city.

I don’t even mind Mon-El being here. It’s been a while since I last saw him and he always makes sure the conversation is flowing. My cheeks begin to hurt from laughing so hard at his witticisms.

However, my night goes rapidly downhill when I spot a tall, dark, brooding figure on the other side of the bar. I try to duck out of his line of sight but I am too late. He spots me and gives me a stupid overconfident grin before making his way over.

“Hey, Kara! What are you doing here?” James exclaims and I cringe. I hate that he still has some sort of power over me. That I’m not indifferent to him. That I’m still not entirely over him and what he did.  

My whole table falls silent at his presence. A few angry glares are thrown his way. “Hello, James,” I say as politely as I can. He is the last person I wanted to see tonight.

James is my ex-boyfriend. We dated all through college, and he was my first serious relationship. We took the same journalism class and hit it off straight away. We are very similar. Same interests and principles. We were soon spending every weekend together. He was my best friend and I was completely and utterly head over heels in love with him. I gave him everything, including my virginity, and I honestly thought he was the one for me. I had seen how in love my parents still were and desperately wanted that with him. That was until he broke up with me the day of college graduation. It turns out for the last year of our relationship he had been sleeping with Lucy Lane, and apparently thought she was more suitable girlfriend material for him. It was well rumored he only dated me because Lucy wouldn’t give him the time of day before. I was only his means to an end.

To say I was crushed would be an understatement. Not only had I lost my boyfriend but one of my best friends. I stopped going to all our regular hang-out places as there were too many memories of him everywhere. It took a lot of persuasion from Alex and Lena, and the realization that life goes on, before I could face them again.

To help me get over it, I threw myself into my work. That’s why I don’t really date anymore. A couple of disappointing dates, and some even fewer casual sexual encounters, but nothing serious. I don't want to put myself in a position where I can get hurt like that again. I don’t like being vulnerable.

Our break-up didn’t seem to affect James at all. He got a job as a freelance photographer for a high-circulation newspaper, and Lucy moved in with him soon after. They got married two years ago, and now live in a big house in the same suburbs as my parents. I bump into him every now and then, and every time it gets even more awkward as he rubs his perfect life in my face.

Well, at least tonight I have got something to show off. “I'm actually out celebrating tonight. I've been promoted at work to News Senior Editor,” I state proudly. My friends all smile proudly in encouragement.

“Oh, well, couldn’t have been against serious competition,” James replies. I frown at his disregard for my achievement. He has no idea how hard I worked to get that job.

“I'm out celebrating, too,” he continues, completely unaware that he has just blatantly insulted me. “Lucy is pregnant with twins! We had the sonogram today, look!”

He pulls out his brand new iPhone to show us a picture of two alien looking fetuses. Of course, something good –something better– is happening in his life, too. I try to bury the hurt this announcement causes me.

My group mumbles congratulations as James goes on and on about how they got pregnant on the first go, how he has just been given a big bonus for landing ‘the most seek after celebrity photograph of the century’, and the vacation he is about to go on in Italy, where they’ll be staying in the new villa he’s just bought on the Tuscany region. Every new boast is like a punch to the gut and leaves me winded. It reminds me of how good his life is without me. How disposable I was to him.

My friends try to talk up my new position but he just knocks it back with a disinterested laugh. By the time we eventually get rid of him, I feel completely deflated. Any pride for my promotion has been squashed to smithereens.

Feeling disheartened, I go to the bar to try and see whether some strong alcohol can make me forget the last thirty minutes of my life ever existed. I slump my elbows on the bar and put my hands on my head. The man behind the counter takes my order: a double Jack Daniel’s on the rocks. And as I wait for my drink, I feel Mon-El sidle up beside me. “Ugh, that guy is such a douche,” he says.

“A very successful douche,” I say bitterly and hand the money to the bartender.

“Come on, now! Would you really want to be with a jerk who leaves his pregnant wife home on the day of her first sonogram, just so he can go out with his buddies and get drunk?”

“When you put it that way… I guess not.”

“Of course not,” he agrees. “If –or when– I have a baby, I won’t be leaving my wife’s side for a minute. I'm going to spoil her rotten.” I give him a small nod, already imagining him doing that. I know he would. He’s that kind of guy. “And don't let him convince you for a second he is any better than you. Because he’s not. He just invaded someone else’s privacy for money. You work to help people,” Mon-El continues and I turn to smile at him gratefully. His last words cheer me up a bit, despite myself.

“He was an idiot to cheat on you. You are so much better than Lucy,” Mon-El adds. “He was a stupid asshole for not being able to see how beautiful and amazing you are.”

“You don't need to say that. You don’t have to make me feel better,” I respond a little embarrassed. I have never been good at receiving compliments. Especially not from him. I’m used to Mon-El making fun of me, not talking me up.

“No, I do,” he contradicts. “Whether you like it or not, I do care about you, Kara. And I don't like seeing you hurt.” I smile again. His words do manage to make me feel a little bit better. It's nice to know he looks out for me, even if sometimes I find him kind of obnoxious. Regardless of the fact that we don’t always see eye to eye, I know he’s one of the most genuinely sweet and generous men I’ve ever met. “Plus, I'm making you breakfast in bed tomorrow, so you have that to look forward to,” he winks conspiratorially. 

“That's true,” I reply perking up a little bit. “Remember, I like caramel syrup!”

“Like I could ever forget!” he exclaims with a chuckle, before taking both of my hands in his and placing me back on my feet. “Now, let’s go, Danvers. Let's gets back to the people who actually love you and make you feel good about yourself.”

I smile once more, not forcing it this time, and pick up my drink. I do feel much better now, thanks to him. Mon-El just always knows the right thing to say. And as he places his hand on my lower back for the second time this evening, and gently guides me to our table, I feel incredibly grateful to have him in my life.

 


	2. Five weeks until the wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding invitation arrives and a deal is struck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I'm back!  
> Just a quick note, for the sake of this work of fiction, lets assume Metropolis and National City are actually nearby, like an hour or two drive away at most.  
> Without further ado, enjoy!

 

The light hurts my eyes as I slowly pry them open. My brain is painfully throbbing inside my skull and I feel as though something might have died in my mouth.

I look down to see I’m still wearing the navy dress from last night. I also notice that I am lying on my own bed, although I have no idea how I managed to make it here. I think someone carried me home. I mean, I have a vague recollection of feeling a pair of strong arms picking me up and holding me. The identity of the owner of those arms, though, remains a mystery.

Argh, I feel like shit. Being this hangover reminds me why I don’t like to drink much.

Last night, after James finally left –which, of course, he made his way back to our table to rub it in one more time that he’d be going home to his wife–, Alex decided tequila shots were in order. _Lots_ of tequila shots. _Lots and lots of tequila shots._

After that, everything is just foggy and comes at me in brief flashes. Smoke. Music. Lights. More tequila. Me, laughing at something Mon-El said. Eve dancing on top of the bar counter. Lena drunk-dialing Jack. Yet more tequila.

I find it hard to distinguish what was real and what I hope is just some sort of hellish nightmare.

The only thing that I’m certain of is: Man, I drank too much tequila.

I feel dehydrated, so, with some difficulty, I force myself to stand up to go to the kitchen and get some water. However, the sight of me as I pass my mirror makes me stop dead on my tracks. My look is cringe worthy. I move further into my bathroom to admire my lousy state, which does nothing to help me feel better about myself at the moment. I groan loudly. This was a bad idea. I look like something that got chewed up and vomited by a giant monster. I am, by definition, a mess. My hair is all tangled like a bird’s nest, make-up smeared across my face and my eyes are bloodshot. I look like death.

I need water. Or caffeine. Both.

I enter the living area to find Lena all showered, nice and clean, wrapped with a blanket on the couch watching some crappy daytime soap opera. The only hint at our previous night’s pursuits are the dark bags under her eyes.

I give her a small tired smile –that she returns– as I head to the fridge to get a water bottle. After almost finishing half of it, I notice the tray sitting on the kitchen table. Mon-El has been busy. He kept his promise, all my favorites are in display: pancakes, bacon, hash browns, even poached eggs. And he’s made enough to feed an army –or its equivalent: a very hungover Kara. He’s even left the coffee brewing, and fresh squeezed orange juice. I honestly don’t understand how he is able to function after our heavy drinking, but I’m not complaining. It smells delicious. _‘Thank you, Mon-El,’_ I think as I dive right in.

I greedily take a huge bite of bacon, moaning at its heavenly taste. This breakfast is immediately making me feel better. I offer some to Lena, but she politely refuses saying she feels too sick to eat.

“How can you even think of food right now?” she asks with a disgusted expression on her face. “The smell of that poor dead fried pig is enough to make me wanna puke.”

I chuckle and wave the piece of bacon in her direction just to annoy her. “What can I say? I'm starving!” I exclaim as I chew the last morsel. “And besides, your brother’s cooking is out of this world!”

“To be fair, Kara, you’re always starving,” she replies with a knowing look. “At least I’m glad my brother has some good uses for you.”

I nod emphatically with chipmunk’s cheeks full of chocolate chip pancakes.

After a while I ask, “Do you know how long he’s staying?”

“Not sure,” she answers. “I know it’s been a rough couple of months for him. His art is not selling, and he’s struggling to get by.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Yeah, the worst part is that I know our moms and Lar are pressuring him to get into the family business,” Lena explains sadly. “Unfortunately, if he doesn’t get any buyers soon, I know he’ll cave in and go to work to LG Corp.”

I grimace. I know how much he hates working there. LG Corp. was founded over thirty years ago by Lionel Luthor and Lar Gand, after merging their own two companies. The merging of their two wives, though, they did not foresee. After meeting over work functions and dinner parties, and spending so much time together complaining about their husbands being workaholics, Lillian and Rhea found something more than a friendship in each other. That was how at five years old, for all intents and purposes, Lena Luthor and Mon-El Gand became brother and sister.

At some point of our lives, I think we’ve all worked at their company. I worked there for a brief summer, but truth be told I only did it so I could hang out with Lena. How fun would it be to work with your best friend, right? Don’t get me wrong, spending time with Lena, even Mon-El was a blast. Handling multi-millionaire high-handed people, however, was not. So, after a trial period of three months, I was ruthlessly –albeit, fairly– fired. Both Mon-El and Lena still tease me about that to this day.

Anyways, since Mon-El graduated college –which was already a huge disappointment for his parents, since he only minored in Business, and chose Art as a major– they’ve been pushing him to ‘take his place’ at the family company. Neither his dad, nor his moms, agree with his lifestyle as a painter.

Plus, he’s the only one who doesn’t get a steady monthly income, which makes him more financially unstable than he’d like –which, in turn, only grants him even more nagging from his family to ‘get a real job’. Since Lex now runs the company as the CEO, with Lena as the CFO, his dad has never quite forgiven him for leaving it all in the hands of the Luthors, without a Gand in charge.

I have to be honest about something, though; I admire him. It takes guts to do what he’s doing. He’s stubborn and goes after what he wants. I like that. When he’s struggling badly –as he’s now–, the most help he’s ever accepted from anyone has been the refuge of the couch in our loft. I find it commendable of him to stick to his true passion, and fight for his dreams. Even more so, considering that no one he loves supports his art, well, except for Lena and I. 

“I hope he finds something soon,” I say, meaning it with all my heart. “It’s such a shame he doesn't sell more. I mean, his paintings are beautiful! If I could, I’d buy them all.”

“I know,” Lena agrees. “But we’re biased, I suppose. Besides, he’d never take any money from us.”

I shrug my shoulders. I know he wouldn’t. He’s not that kind of man. Even when he’s completely broke and crashing with us, he’s always made sure to help in any way he could. He’d do temp jobs to help around, and clean and cook. He might have been raised as a prince, but Mon-El Gand is not afraid to get his hands dirty. And maybe we _are_ a bit biased, but his art is truly breathtaking. He’s really talented –as far as my non-artistic eyes can judge.

“Where is he anyway?” I inquire trying to change the subject a little.

“He went out for his morning run,” she grunts. “I hate that he never gets hangover. I don’t get it! I feel horrendous! We are getting too old for this shit.”

I nod my head in agreement. “What happened last night?” I ask not completely sure that I really want to know. “I don't remember much after James left.”

Lena smirks. _Oh, no._

“As you can probably gather, you got wasted,” I give her a look that tells her she’s stating the obvious. “You started tap-dancing. Alone. In the middle of the dancefloor.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Oh, yes, you did!” she laughs. “I didn't even know you could kick your leg that high. You almost knocked out Mon-El!”

“Please, tell me that was a nightmare.” The memories flooding through my mind then, unfortunately, respectfully disagree.

“Sorry, no can do,” Lena tells me. “After you karate-kicked him on the chin, you stumbled and fell on your bum. He had to, literally, pick you up from the floor. Anyways, by that time you were basically unconscious, so he decided to just carry you home.”

 _Oh, no, no, no. No._ I groan and hide my head in my hands. That explains a lot. I need to apologize to Mon-El. I made a fool of myself last night. I should not be allowed near alcohol. “Oh, Rao. Why?”

“Don't worry, apparently, I wasn't that much better,” Lena tries to console me. At my quizzical brow she elaborates. “Allegedly, I sent numerous of very suggestive and provocative and, may I add, embarrassing voice notes to Jack.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish,” she whines. “I might have even spoken in _sexy_ French at some point.”

Raucous laughter bubbles right out of me. “You know he’s never gonna let you forget that, right?”

“ _Oui,_ ” Lena jokes and joins me in laugher. Her confession does make me feel better about what happened last night. At least, I am not the only one who can’t hold their liquor.

Afterwards, we use the countless pictures captured on Lena’s phone to try and piece together the happenings of the evening, which has us both groaning in dismay and laughing hysterically. Even though I don’t recall half of the night, I’m still glad I went out. The hangover might be killing me at the moment, but it was worth it. I had fun last night. After sacrificing my social life for my job for so long, it felt amazing to just lay back, let loose, be silly, and spend some quality time with my friends.

I realize now that I don’t have to be serious all the time, I can relax and enjoy my life, too. Reminiscing with Lena makes forget about James and the things he said. I should be thankful –and I am– for the amazing family and friends I have; I should focus on the good things in my life and not dwell on the past.

Mon-El reappears shortly after my epiphany, looking devilishly handsome with sweat drops running down his neck and some unruly hair locks sticking to his forehead. He hums along with whatever song is playing on his headphones and moves directly to the kitchen, where he takes out a bottle of water from the fridge. He slurps it down in one go, throwing the empty bottle in the recycle bin. Reaching to remove the armband wrapped around his bulging biceps, he places his phone on the counter and pulls the headphones out of his ears. I try to not ogle much at his figure, but the tight black Under Armour t-shirt he’s wearing makes it very difficult. I can see his back muscles contort; my eyes following down the ridges and curves along his spine, ending in that perfectly sculpted round _derrière_ –because in sexy French is the only way to describe it.

As if he was hearing my inner thoughts, he turns to us with a smug smile adorning his lips. “How are you feeling this morning, ladies?” he asks cheekily. We both glare at him but that just makes him chuckle.

“Lena, as your older brother…” he starts but gets cut off by Lena’s indignant rebuke.

“Older by only seven weeks, you dork,” she huffs. “And you’re my _step_ -brother.”

“Aw, come on!” he crosses his arms and gives her his best puppy eyed stare while pouting adorably. “You can’t pull the ‘we’re only step-siblings’ card every time you don’t like what I have to say.”

I can’t help but chuckle. He’s right, and he knows it… and Lena is so busted. “To be fair, Lena, you do tend to do that.”

“Fine!” she concedes. “What were you saying, dear _older brother_?” she dramatically emphasizes those two last words and gestures Mon-El to continue. He takes it all in stride and changes the pout on his lips for his signature lopsided grin. He winks at me in thanks when Lena is not looking, and then gives us a triumphant look declaring his victory on this battle round.

“As I was saying,” he moves to sit on the floor between the two of us. “As your older brother, I should advice you to never drink another ounce of alcohol in your life. However… after witnessing you and Kara do your own rendition of ‘Girls just wanna have fun’ at the top of your lungs –rather loudly and off-key, may I add–, I don’t have the heart to get in the way of you girls and your _fun_.”

Lena smacks him in the head with a throw pillow. I cover my eyes with my hands and groan, yet again. How can I not remember any of that? Of course, since both Lena and I were clearly too busy, there’s no documental evidence of that moment. _Thank Rao._ I am embarrassed I let myself get in that state in public, even if I do admit I kind of enjoyed it.

“Hey, clever boy, remember you are living here rent free,” Lena reminds him. “So, no more smart ass comments coming from you.”

“Okay, okay, fine!” he relents putting his hands up in mock surrender. He gets up from his spot on the floor and I immediately feel like something’s missing, as a weight lifted, only then do I realize he had his head resting against my knee this entire time. “I'm off for a shower before either of you impale me with a fork,” he says before ducking into the bathroom.

* * *

 

He must be gone less than a minute when the doorbell unexpectedly rings. Lena gives a me questioning look. “Are you expecting anyone?” she asks.

_Grife._

I completely forgot my cousin’s fiancé was coming over. “It’s Lois,” I explain. “She’s got wedding stuff that she needs help with, and I promised her we would get them done today.”

“Oh.”

I panic as I rise from the couch and then I remember my dreadful state. “Can you get the door? And… hold her off while I get somewhat decent?”

“Sure,” Lena nods. I thank her before making a dash to my room. I hear the sound of Lois’ high heels clacking against the hardwood floors as I close my door.

Ugh, great. This is the last thing I’d want to deal with right now: helping someone else get married. I should be taking a nap and drinking copious amounts of water.

Lois is my cousin’s, Clark, fiancé. They both met while working as reporters for The Daily Planet; Metropolis’ biggest newspaper. I love my cousin. And I actually really like Lois. I’m just not in the mood for this today. To be honest, I’m not really looking forward to that wedding, at all.

Clark Kent is the son of my Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Martha. Martha Kent, née Danvers, is my dad’s younger sister. They met in Kansas State University, and shortly after finishing college got married and moved to his family farm on the countryside, where Clark was born and raised. Alex and I used to spend our summers there. Swimming in the lake, helping around the farm, playing with Clark and his friends, riding horses, and tending the gardens. Clark is three years older than I, he is like a big brother for Alex and me.

Clark and Lois, Lois and Clark. They’re perfect for each other. And don’t get me wrong, I’m really happy for them. They’ve always stated their wish to start their own big happy family. Their babies will be ridiculously cute, that much I can tell already.

Apparently Lois doesn’t have many girlfriends –or any, for that matter– which is why Alex and I got dragged into being bridesmaids. Along with Lucy, Lois’ younger sister, who will be her maid of honor.

Have I mention the funny detail that _that_ Lucy Lane is the same as in James Olsen’s wife Lucy Lane? No? Well, my apologies. Now, you get it? Why I’m not really excited to do this?

Let me give you the entire back story.

James and I met through my cousin actually, he was –is, still– Clark’s best friend. He would be a constant feature in our summers at Kent Farm. It was surprising when Jimmy didn’t follow Clark to Kansas State and instead chose to go NCU –where we reconnected after many years, and began dating, to my own dismay.

You gotta understand, finding a familiar face as a lost freshman was such a relief for me. Jimmy was already a senior when we bumped into each other at some optative journalism class. That first year around each other was perfect, we was like a guardian to me. He was always there when I needed help, and I honestly thought I would spend the rest of my life with him. Then on my sophomore year he was already graduated, so we spent less time together. I was fine with it, I thought we were doing okay. Apparently, I was wrong.

By junior year he spent most of his time in Metropolis, and only visited National City once or twice a month. But still, I was so in love with him. I flat-out refused to believe we couldn’t make it work. I naively turned a blind eye to what everyone told me: ‘Long distance never works.’

Then, on my senior year, I just thought we were so close to making it. I thought after I graduated, maybe, I could move to Metropolis since he seemed to prefer living there –and by the way, look at the irony, in the end, he ended up living in the suburbs of National City. It was such a slap in the face when he admitted the truth to me. That he didn’t love me anymore. That he’d been seeing someone else for over a year. That he was planning on proposing. He was marrying Lucy Lane. He explained how he’d always had feelings for her, but thought she was unattainable. He explained how after many hangouts between them with Clark and Lois, they started to grow closer, until they started secretly dating. I was devastated.

To say Clark was green with fury would be an understatement. They’ve managed to patch up their friendship after all these years, but it was never the same as before. At first, he’d had to keep it barely civil just because of Lois, and then slowly they rekindled their long lost brotherhood. I was actually glad that happened, I didn’t like the position I put Clark in: having to choose between his best mate –who happened to be his girlfriend’s brother-in-law– and his cousin. I knew I would never forgive James, but I was happy Clark found it in his heart to, at least, move past it. That’s way more than I can say about myself. 

That’s why our break-up was even more awful than it seemed.

It didn’t only tear me apart. It tear our _family_ apart.

So, forgive me if I’m not enthusiastic enough for this shindig.

Anyways, for the last six months I’ve felt like I was stuck inside a Stephen King version of the movie 27 Dresses. I hate weddings. And to tell you the truth, I don't give a fuck about sitting charts, or cake flavors, or matching color dresses. I don't know anything about this stuff. And I don’t _want_ to know.

Earlier this week, Lois had called and said she wanted to come over. When I asked her regarding to what, she limited to say it was about the wedding.

I take a two-minute cold shower, and faster than a bullet I put on the nearest pair of jeans and t-shirt I can find inside my hamper; before bracing myself for what awaits me on the other side of the door.

I can hear Lena and Lois chatting amicably, something about lace or embroidery. Whatever that is. Once she is alerted of my presence, she stops and immediately stands up to give me a hug in greeting. She then pulls me down next to her on the couch, and Lena quietly makes an exit to her own room.

“Can you believe there’s only five more weeks until the big day?” she asks with a big smile on her face. I try to return it, but I’m sure it’s so forced it must look more like a grimace.

“Yeah,” I say weakly. “So, what can I do for you, Lois?”

“I’ve come to deliver this personally,” she extends me a pristinely white envelope with my name on, written in beautiful cursive calligraphy. “Clark wanted to come, too; but Perry is giving him a hard time lately. He’s not too keen on his two best reporters leaving for two weeks for their honeymoon.”

The invitation looks almost too pretty to touch. I hate it. And I have not even opened it, yet.

She looks at me excitedly, eager for me to open it. It is clear that she is proud of it. I carefully tear open the envelope to be greeted with some more beautiful cursive calligraphy.

_You are cordially invited to the wedding of_

_Lois Lane and Clark Kent_

_August 2 nd _ _at 5 pm._

_Kent Farm_

_Reception to follow_

“What do you think?” she questions. “I was afraid they wouldn’t turn out as I imagined.”

“It’s beautiful,” I cover the sentiment the invitation in my hand produces. It’s not really the invitation that’s at fault. The invitation truly is stunning. I guess this piece of paper reminds of how far I am from having it all. The perfect match. The sickeningly sweet relationship. The lavish wedding. “I love it!” I finally exclaim with barely contained false enthusiasm.

“That’s good,” she smiles. “I’ll leave you Jack’s as well, okay? You can give it to Lena later.”

I just nod my head. Lena’s boyfriend, Jack, is an acquaintance of Clark and Lois. They met a few years ago after interviewing him about some medical development his company was working on. They hit it off right away. Ever since then, they’ve managed to stay relatively close, I wouldn’t call them friends per se, but something in between. Luckily, that way at least I will have some pleasant company at this god awful event.

The good mood I was under thanks to that realization quickly turns sour when I notice the difference between the two invitations I’m holding. Right there, in the bottom right corner. Where mine says ‘Valid for 1 adult’, theirs says ‘2’.

I know is petty of me. They _are_ in a relationship after all. But the fact that they’ve assumed I’d go alone pisses me off a bit. “I don’t get to bring someone, then?”

“Oh!” Lois actually looks very surprised, which pisses me off even more. “I’m sorry, Kara. I just… well… we thought you wouldn’t, since you don’t date at all.”

 _We? Who’s we?_ This comments grates on my nerves. I don’t need the constant reminder of my non-existent love life. Lois has the decency to look discomfited. But, something inside me finally snaps. Maybe is the hangover, or her pity look, or the fact that I saw James again last night. I can’t hold in my resentment any longer. And poor Lois gets caught in the crossfire. “What makes you think that?” I ask irritated.

Lois gives me another pitying look and places a hand on my forearm, giving it a small patronizing squeeze. “Look, I know how hard this must be for you, considering what happened between you and Jimmy. I just thought…”

I glare at her. I know this is not really her fault. Nonetheless, I can’t help myself. I hate how tiny those words make me feel. Across the room, I notice Lena standing by her door, looking at me sympathetically. _That’s it._ “Well, you thought wrong,” I state defensively. Her comments are really beginning to irk me and my natural defense mechanisms come into play. “Actually, I've been seeing someone for the last couple of months.”

“Who is the lucky guy?” Lois asks seemingly unconvinced.

_Grife! Grife! Grife!_

What have I done? This is what I get for being so impulsive. I always leap before I look. Maggie, Alex’s girlfriend, always says that’s my worst trait. What am I going to achieve by lying? I’d only end up even more ridiculed than I already am. The thing is, now I can't admit the truth without looking like a stupid liar. I am going to have to play along. At least, until the wedding.

I rack my brain for a suitable candidate to be my fake boyfriend. However, just as I am running out of ideas, Mon-El takes this as his cue to exit the bathroom, looking deliciously wet and wearing only a white towel around his waist. He looks mouthwatering yummy with his damp dark hair and his sculpted chest on display.

“Good morning!” he greets her cheerily. This breaks our concentration as she turns to look at him.

And then it hits me, the answer to my predicament. “It’s Mon-El,” I blurt out.

Lena’s blue orbs get wide as saucers. I give her a pointed look to keep her mouth shut. Mon-El looks endearingly confused. Lois eyes us all warily. Sensing I need to do more than that in order to convince her –and myself–, I walk up to him, swaying my hips seductively, and put my arms around his naked shoulders. As I press my chest to his, I am hit by the delicious smell of lemon from his shampoo. “I’m sorry, babe, I just couldn't keep this a secret anymore. I had to tell her about us,” I say sweetly, looking up at Mon-El through my lashes, pleading desperately with him to follow my lead.

“You guys are really dating?” Lois asks in disbelief.

I continue to give Mon-El my best Puss-In-Boots look. Begging him with my eyes. I need him to play along with this. I can’t even imagine how pathetic and desperate I’ll come off as if he doesn’t. He just gives me back a bewildered look. I can’t exactly blame him. This makes no sense. He looks between the three of us girls, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. And after what feels like an eternity, but couldn’t have been more than five seconds, he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls my body ever closer to his.

“Yeah,” he replies with a loving smile. “She couldn’t resist me for long.”

I thank him with a blinding smile as I try to keep the enamored girlfriend act, without showing my relief that he is going along with this charade. I see Lena roll her eyes at our behavior. Lois surveys the two of us closely, trying to make up her mind about us. “We decided to keep it quiet at first, because we knew people would watch and comment on it. Besides, we didn't want it to take the spotlight from you guys getting married,” I add.

Lois ponders my words for a moment while I stand tense in Mon-El’s arms. Finally, she apparently decides that even I am not _that_ pathetic to make up a boyfriend –ha, I wish. “That’s great! I’m happy for you both. I’ll move some people around and make room for him at your table.”

“Thanks.”

I let out an internal sigh of relief, grateful that she has bought my story. I will have to figure out the rest later. Lois excuses herself shortly after. And as I walk her out, she congratulates me on _finally_ getting a boyfriend. I choose not to take her words as an insult, even if in my defensive state I can’t help but feeling like they are. As soon as I have closed the door behind her, I turn around to find Mon-El with the biggest question mark on his forehead. “Do you mind telling me what that was?” he asks.

 _What have I gotten myself into?_ I sigh and make my way over to sit on the couch. Mon-El follows me quietly and joins me on the plush cushions. I choose to ignore the fact that he’s still only clothed in that skimpy towel. Once he is settled next to me, I explain my anger at Lois’ –and therefore, Lucy’s– assumption that I wouldn't have a date to this event, and how this led me to lie about him being my boyfriend.

Lena just gives me disapproving looks and shakes off her head throughout the whole explanation, while Mon-El pays close attention. “Are you asking me to be your fake date for this wedding, _babe_?” he questions to make sure he has understood my crazy ass plan. I ignore his reference to the term of endearment I called him. 

I nod my head weakly, feeling ashamed at my lie. “I’m sorry! I don’t know what came over me, but the thought of going to that wedding and having to face James again, all happy and married and with twins on the way, while all the people I know ask me why am I still single and when am I getting married myself, I just… I panicked!” I exclaim.

Mon-El adopts a thinking pose, like the guy on Blue’s Clues. Ugh, the sight of his chiseled half-naked torso is not making this conversation any easier. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

I grin at him. “Really?” I ask in disbelief.

“Of course,” he confirms. “But I have a few conditions and stipulations.”

“Anything you want,” I say a little too eagerly. At his mischievous grin I realize my mistake. I am just delighted he is going along with my stupid story. He thinks for a moment before laying down his terms.

“First, you can’t give me any crap about me staying here, okay?” he starts and I nod in agreement. “Second, since I can’t really afford a tux at the moment, I might need you to get one for me.”

I give him another nod. “Sure. We can go shopping soon.”

“Third, I think this whole sham should end the minute the wedding is over,” he continues. I can’t say I disagree with this. I don’t want this thing to go on any longer that needed. I want it over as soon as possible as well. “We’ll fake break up after the reception dies down.”

“Fine by me,” I agree. Besides, I don't really have much room for bargaining. He’s doing me a huge favor by pretending to be my boyfriend. Most people wouldn't care enough to do something like this. I expect I will have to play the bad guy in our “break-up”, but I don’t care. I will just have to suck it up. It’s not like this is a real relationship, anyway.

“And last but not least, I need supplies,” he concludes. “My art materials are running low and I need to get my hands on some if I ever plan on painting something good enough to be bought. As soon as I get some cash, I’ll be out of here, don’t worry.”

His terms and conditions seem fairly reasonable. Plus, I don't really have much choice, and with my job promotion I can afford to buy him the things he needs. Also, I will want him out of our loft right after the wedding anyway. I know I won’t be able to look at him for a while after this is done. He’ll be a constant reminder of how lame I am. All in all, I think this works well for the both of us. I get to keep the last shred of my dignity at that wedding, and Mon-El gets the investment he needs to keep his artwork going. It’s a win-win.

“Deal,” I exclaim sticking out my right hand. Mon-El grins at me and takes my hand in his with a firm grip.

“’Pleasure doing business with you, Miss Danvers,” he replies jokingly.

I shake my head at him but can’t help the pleased grin on my face, all the same. Mon-El and I have always gotten along pretty well. Also, he’s not hard to look at. Maybe it won't be such a bad thing playing to be his girlfriend.

Lena gives us both a condemning glare. “You do realize this is gonna end up blowing up in your faces? Right? You guys are such _idiots_!” she hisses as she walks past where we’re sitting.

Mon-El just looks at me innocently and shrugs his shoulders.

Well, I don’t have a choice now… I have to persuade everyone that this is real.

Oh, I am most definitely an idiot.

 


	3. Later that same day...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mon-El and Kara face the aftermath of their news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!!!  
> Here's an early update for all of you.  
> Thanks for reading and commenting!  
> Your support has been amazing.  
> Hope you like this!

Lena left half an hour ago to go oversee something at LG Corp., and then she said she’d go visit Jack. That means Mon-El and I are currently home alone. After calling in sick at work, I grab some aspirin and leftover pancakes and lock myself in my room in an effort to avoid him. I am answering some work related emails when I ponder on just how crazy this whole thing is, and the more I think about it, the more nervous I get about pulling this off.

I have never been good at lying. Mon-El’s always called me an open-book, he says I have the biggest tell –whatever that is. I don’t know how I am supposed to convince people –family and friends included– that I am crazy head over heels in love with Mon-El Gand. It’s been ages since I’ve been in a relationship; I’m not sure what it’s meant to look like, or how to act, or what to do. Do I have to kiss him? Hug him? Hold his hand?

The thought I’m dreading the most is: what if this changes things between us?

No matter what, Mon-El has always been a constant feature in my life, and I’d hate to lose him over something as stupid and meaningless as this. I don’t want things to become too awkward.  

Eventually, my parched throat forces me out my bedroom and into the kitchen. I place my empty plate in the sink and open the fridge to get some more of the orange juice Mon-El made, when I notice him sitting cross-legged on the couch, a sketchpad resting on his lap, a look of deep concentration on his face that hints of entire worlds trapped inside him. I’ve seen him drawing and sketching and painting many times before, but 'til this day it amazes me how he becomes a whole different person whilst doing it. His features drastically change; his eyebrows furrow and his entire face takes on an inexplicable intensity. His focus and dedication are evident for all to see. Gone is happy smile and sunny disposition, and in its place there’s this incredible passion you wouldn't expect from someone usually so cheery and easygoing.

He looks up at me, putting his pencil down and leaning back against the couch, a casual arm slung across the backrest. “Well, look what we have here. If it isn’t my gorgeous girlfriend,” he teases. “What can I do for you, beautiful?”

He has a stupid smug grin on his face and I scowl at him. “Don’t call me that,” I state sternly.

“Why not?” he asks innocently. “You are absolutely beautiful, Kara.”

His words leave me speechless for a moment. No one has ever called me beautiful before. And I don’t know if he means it, or if he’s just starting his roleplay early. Either way, it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t know how to take a compliment. I feel dumbfounded, flattered but dumbfounded. “You don’t have to lie, yet. We’re not started.”

“Who says I’m lying?”

“Whatever,” I dismiss his words. “Just… don’t call me that.”

“Okay,” he says, dragging out the vowels. “What pet names am I allowed to call you, then?”

I give him my most threatening laser vision glare. “No pet names.”

“You started it, babe,” he points out and smiles.

“I am not your babe!” Mon-El chuckles at this as I just continue to glower at him. Well, at least one of us finds this whole thing funny.

“Whatever you say,” he pauses and then, “… _babe_.”

_Ugh._  I swear I’d pummel him if he weren’t so infuriatingly charming.

“You know I am the one doing you a favor, right?” He gives me an amused look and I continue, “I’m way out you league, Mon-El Gand. I’m a total catch! I have a successful career in journalism. I’m smart. I’m beautiful, as you said. And I’m willing to support your failing artist, broke ass.”

For just a fraction of a second his eyes get clouded; but as soon as the look comes, it goes away. “Ouch! That hurt,” he replies mockingly, clutching his hand over his heart. "And you clearly think very highly of yourself, don’t you? Well, I’m sorry, your highness! We, measly peasants, can’t all be as high-and-mighty and enlightened as yourself.”

"I am not high-and-mighty and enlightened!" I snap. Mon-El laughs at my response. I am seriously reconsidering using Mon-El as my fake-boyfriend. It may be better to admit I was lying than having to listen to his endless teasing.

“Keep telling yourself that, you might start to believe it,” he retorts. “Truth is, princess, I’m the one that’s out of _your_ league.”

“Oh, yeah?” I try to sound confident, but I can’t keep the shakiness from my voice. Mon-El gets up from the couch and slowly approaches me standing in the kitchen.

He corners me against the fridge, unexpectedly. I can feel its coolness press against by back. He places both his hands on either side of my face, and stands before me only an inch apart. I try to say something, but no words leave my stuttering mouth.

“Yeah,” he whispers seductively. I am about to yell at him for being so close, when he drastically pulls his face away from mine. “And now, you’ve just proven my point…” he states with a smug grin and a raised eyebrow. I hate how easily unsettled I am around him. “You pull it off, though. Looks good on you.”

“Gee, thanks!” I glare at him, exasperated. He still stands in front of me, just a step away, and gives my curls a little twirl. The gesture reminds me of when we were kids, and he used to tug at my hair to annoy me. It still has the same effect today. He annoys me. He disconcerts me. He unnerves me. He rattles me.

He smirks at my obvious irritation before pushing himself against me and moving his arm around my waist. I scowl and I’m about to push him off me, when I realize he’s trying to open the refrigerator. “Excuse me,” he says, as he gently sets me aside so I’m not hit by the swinging door. He bends down to grab an apple from the bottom drawer and I try but fail to not stare at his backside. Holy Rao, that ass is not from this Earth.

When he straightens up once more, I discretely turn away and try to hide the blush I feel creeping up my cheeks. He sits on a stool and leans his elbows against the counter top, taking a huge bite out of the fruit in his hand. “We should start to come up with some story as to how we began dating,” he says after finishing chewing. “By know, probably, Clark, Lucy, James, your parents and, therefore, your sister must be on to us. I bet you fifty dollars that the phone will start ringing within the hour.”

I hate to admit it, but he’s right. There’s no way Lois has kept her mouth shut. My entire family inner circle is most likely feeding on the gossip as we speak, spreading my shocking news like wildfire. Before we know it, _everyone_ will know, and they’re gonna be desperate to get the full scoop.

Oh man, Alex will kill me. She’ll do her James-Bond-y pinky thingy, and she’ll murder me.

I let out a tired sigh as I make my way over. I sit on a stool on the opposite side of the kitchen counter top to where he’s sitting. “Any ideas?” I ask unenthusiastically.

Mon-El finishes the last bite of his apple and chucks the core in the trashcan before answering. “Well, you came onto me, obviously,” he jokes and I hang my head back in resignation.

This is his revenge. He’s gonna make look like a desperate Regency era spinster trying to hold on to her last hope. I resign myself to my fate and pull my head back up with a sigh as we begin negotiating the details of our fake relationship. After much arguing and bickering, we finally manage to come up with a somewhat believable cover.

We got together two months ago, after an evening where Mon-El came looking for Lena but she was not home. I was very stressed at the time due to my possible upcoming promotion, so Mon-El suggested getting some drinks to help me relax. After drinking way too much, way too fast, I made a pass at him and we ended up hooking up. According to Mon-El, that was all it took for me to fall prey to his charms –mmhm, he wishes. He was reluctant at first, since he didn’t want to ruin our friendship, and also he knew his sister wouldn’t approve. But after my persistent begging, he finally relented and asked me out on a date.

On our first date he took me to an evening stroll and a picnic beneath the stars. _How romantic._ We stay mostly at my place –for obvious reasons. And even though I don’t come out looking so great, I’ll take it. I can be clingy all he wants, as long as we don’t blow up our cover. I just go along with whatever he comes up with; first, because I don’t have the artistic imagination to make up an entire story like he does, I’m a journalist and I rely on facts only; and second, because I kind of deserve it after getting us into this mess in the first place.

We are barely finished with all the details of our _courtship_ when my phone starts ringing. I check the caller ID. It’s Alex.

And so, it begins.

I take a deep breath before accepting the call. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Kara Marie Danvers,” she calls me by my full name and I know for sure I’m in so much trouble. “How dare you keep this from me?!”

“I’m sorry, I-” I don’t get to finish as my big sister –as far as her unrelenting seriousness allows– squeals on the phone. Yeah, today must be a cold day in hell. Alexandra Elizabeth Danvers has just _squealed_.

“I can’t believe it! You. And Mon-El,” she continues. “I never thought you’d finally get the guts to admit you had the hots for him and go for it.”

Me? The hots? For Mon-El? Um, _never_.

Unfortunately, I can’t disprove my sister. I should be glad she’s being supportive of us. Having Alex on the wrong side would be catastrophic. “News travels fast, I see.”

“Yeah, well… Lois told Clark, who told Aunt Martha, who told Mom, who told me,” Alex explains the chain of information, which of course we’d already figured would go down that way. _Grife_ , come to think about that, I owe Mon-El fifty bucks. “Seriously, though, I’m so happy for you. You and Hot Cakes make a cute couple.”

Wow, I never thought I’d hear my sister say that Mon-El and I looked cute together. She never said that when I was dating James. Although, a part of me is not that much surprised. Alex is a hopeless romantic deep down. Underneath her tough FBI Agent exterior, she has the biggest and softest heart. She believes in soulmates and happy-endings and all that entails: the wedding, the marriage, the house, the white-picket fence, the 2.5 kids, etcetera, etcetera. I know she’s been worried about me all these years; after James I shut off completely. Alex has been the greatest supporter of me having a new boyfriend, pushing to put myself out there on the market. All this time she’s encouraged me to move on, find someone, open my heart again, to love and be loved in return. So, of course my sister is happy for me. I just hate the fact that she’s happy over a lie.

The thing is, Alex has always been there for me. As my older sister, she’s always protected me and defended me. I don’t want to disappoint her. For once, I wanna try to deal this on my own. Even though we don’t spend as much time together as we used to –now with us both being adults and having time-demanding jobs–, we are there for each other when it matters, all the important things. It kills me that I can’t share the truth with her; but the fewer people in the know, the better.

So, I take another deep breath before answering her. “It's no big deal,” I say trying to sound nonchalant.

“No big deal?” she shrieks once more. “Kara, you are dating Mon-El Gand!”

I believe a lot of Alex’s enthusiasm over this relationship stems from the fact that she genuinely likes Mon-El. They have a sort of weird bro-ship. I’d suffer merciless and endlessly at their hands during my teenage years, they’d always gang up against me and tease me over pretty much everything. They have a lot in common. Also, they’re both so confident. They’re not afraid of expressing their opinions. They fight for what they believe in. They’re both so strong and determined, that’s what I love most about them.

When Alex met Maggie –an NCPD Homicide Detective– while working on a case, and fell in love with her, Mon-El was one of the first people one to notice. Even I didn’t find out until she sat me down and told me the truth herself. He supported her and encouraged her to come out, and at the same time he didn’t treat her any differently at all. Alex told me everything about it afterwards, how cool Mon-El had been over the whole thing. That was one more item on the list of things I owe Mon-El Gand for.

“Yeah, I know that, Alex,” I reply mockingly. “I’m the one dating him, remember?”

“Stop down-playing it, lil’ sis,” she replies. “I want all the juicy details, now spill.”

_Showtime_.

It’s time to put our cover to the test. If anyone is going to call us out in our bullshit, it is Alex. She’ll be the perfect guinea pig; call it a sort of beta-test, to see if there are any bugs or glitches to be fixed. So, I muster every ounce of confidence I have, take a deep breath, and dive straight into the story Mon-El and I made up only a few moments ago.

Alex awes and oohs in all the right places and asks so many questions about how he treats me, and how I feel about him, and where do I see this going… and what’s the sex like. I answer them all as best as I can –minus the sex one–, and hope I sound sincere. Mon-El watches the entire conversation with an amused look on his face. I scowl at him. He is enjoying this way too much. Eventually, like a good detective, Alex exhausts every possible question and winds down the interrogation.

“This calls for a celebration,” she declares. “How about we go out on a double date? You, me, Mon-El and Maggie.”

It’s too soon. I’m not ready for the human trials, yet. “There’s no need.”

“Of course there is,” my sister disagrees. “So, what do you say?”

“I’ll check up with Mon-El and get back to you, okay?” I hope I can come up with a good excuse not to go, but knowing my sister, she won’t give up until we give in. I know Alex, and she’ll just call Mon-El directly and force an affirmative answer out of him. Though I sincerely doubt much forcing would be involved, he’ll be delighted to go on a double date with them. I might as well rip off the band-aid as quickly as possible. “I think we can squeeze in something this weekend.”

“Yay!” I can’t believe my ears. Has my sister just _yay-ed?_ This is too much. “I can’t wait to tell Mags!”

I can’t help the smile that grows on my face. “Alex, I acquired a boyfriend… not discovered the cure for cancer.”

I swear I can see my sister roll her eyes at me through the line. “I know, Kara. I’m just really excited… I always suspected you’d end up together in the end,” she counters. “It was about damn time you guys got your heads out of your asses.”

_What? What’s she talking about?_  “I don’t-”

“Oh, come on! The way you two are always teasing one another and getting into each other’s throats? I mean, you can’t tell me there was nothing else going on. Seriously, you two have always behaved like an old married couple!”

_Ha-ha! Old married couple?_ Mon-El smirks. I frown. It’s true, Mon-El and I do tease each other a lot, like all the time, but _just_ like brother and sister. There are no hidden or deeper feelings there. Never has. Never will. And I want to say so to my sister, but I have a role to play. So, I bite my tongue and continue lying through my teeth. “Well, then… I wish you would’ve told me sooner. That would’ve saved me a lot of time," I jest.

Alex laughs. “It was something you needed to figure out on your own,” she replies. “Besides, you’re together now, and that’s what matters.”

“I guess…” I whisper unconvincingly.

“Oh, I can’t wait for your wedding!” Alex exclaims and I choke.

“Woah, woah, woah…” I say channeling my best Matthew McConaughey impersonation. “Hold your horses, big sis! We’ve barely been dating for a couple of months.”

“Call it sisterly intuition,” she says. “I have a good feeling about this.”

I shake my head with an amused grin, forgetting she can’t see me through the phone. I hope she’s not too disappointed when we suddenly _‘break things off.’_ She sounds so genuinely happy for us. It just makes me feel even more awful about having to lie to her. I’m a terrible sister. “We’ll see.”

“Okay, I gotta go,” Alex says regretfully. “Talk to you later, baby sis. And say hi to Mon-El for me!”

“Will do.” With that we say our goodbyes and disconnect the call.

For being the first try-out, this has gone surprisingly well. I come out on top relatively unscathed.

* * *

 

Our phones haven’t stopped ringing for the last two hours. 

Mon-El and I both get phone calls from our parents. Dad catches me off guard with his praises of Mon-El; he tells me he’s always been quite fond of him, and that he knows he’ll take good care of me and never hurt me. I am kind of shocked but relieved at his approval. I don’t know why –since this isn’t even a real relationship– but having my father’s blessing is very touching.

Alex always joked that I was Dad’s little princess, while she took on the role of his non-existent son. While our father taught me how to read and ride a bike, he taught Alex how to throw a punch and how to escape handcuffs. In spite of that, he and I are very close. I don’t know what I’d do without my dad. He’s always been an inspiration and a role model to me.

Next call comes from Mon-El’s mom. It’s no secret that Rhea wishes Lena were her biological daughter. Ever since marrying Lilian, she’s never hidden her clear favoritism for the Luthor girl. Often dismissing her own son’s accolades. She’s always had a soft spot –as soft as Rhea Gand-Luthor can be– for me, ever since we were children and I was Lena’s only friend. As a result, she’s ecstatic at the news. I can hear her down the phone excitedly telling Mon-El how pleased she is and how he won't be able to do any better. She declares that there might be hope for him yet. That this must be the only thing right he’s ever done in his life.

Mon-El takes all her thin-veiled insults remarkably well. Plus, this turn of events distracts her mother from the fact that is currently broke, homeless and sleeping on our pull-out couch. Forty minutes later, he finally manages to bring the conversation to an end.

When he hangs up the phone, I can see his sapphire eyes looking downcast and wan. I know that despite acting like he doesn’t care, her words take their toll on him and hurt him. Mon-El’s always sought his mother’s love and acceptance. During our teenage years he’d gone through a polished preppy boy phase, doing anything and everything his mother asked of him. He was miserable. When that wasn’t enough, he’d moved to his rebellious party boy phase, thinking that maybe that way he’d get his mother’s attention. However, none of it worked. In the end, he realized that no matter what he did or didn’t do, there was no pleasing Rhea. Ever since he’s been unapologetically Mon-El, not trying to please anyone but himself. And I’m glad of it.

I’m proud of him, actually. He’s someone incredible and unselfish. I only wish his mom could see it, too.

He shakes his head chuckling mirthlessly, and when he looks up at me the clouded look in his eyes is almost gone. “I don’t know who’s more excited over our relationship, if your sister or my mother,” he states with a small grin that tries but doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I think they’ve started with the wedding plans already.”

I smile back at him, trying my best to disperse the heavy air and cheer him up. “They might need therapy after this is over,” I reply jokingly.

Mon-El makes his away over and throws himself down on the couch next to me. “Don’t worry, Mom will get over it rather quickly,” Mon-El says, rapidly dismissing the idea. “She’s used to being disappointed in me by now.”

We fall into a comfortable silence as we work on decreasing my Netflix queue. Without noticing, I recline my head on Mon-El’s shoulder and curl up to his side. His right arm envelops me as I place my legs over his lap.

This is nice.

After the episode ends, Mon-El finally breaks the silence and begins speaking. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Oh, that’s not good,” I deadpan.

“Ha-ha,” he mocks and then continues. “I think we should practice before the big day.”

“Practice what?” I ask.

“Dating,” he explains. “I know you are not very demonstrative and find it hard to show public displays of affection. Ergo, if we’re going to be convincing, I think we should practice being _together_.”

I’m not sure how I feel about this. “You wanna go on a practice date?”

“Yes,” he reiterates. “That way I can teach you how to act more affectionate, and also we can get used to being that way around each other.”

“I don’t need you to teach me anything,” I reply defensively. “I know how to act on a date.”

“No offence, but…” I scowl at him, but that doesn’t deter him. “I’ve seen you flirting, Kara. And it’s not pretty.”

“I can flirt by myself just fine, thank you!” He gives his typical infuriating smug smile that only serves to make me angrier. I don’t like him insulting my flirting skills. I can flirt. I can! Seriously, I can. I may not act like a blonde Barbie bimbo who stands puffing out her chest and twirls her hair round her finger and laughs like a hyena at all the jokes the guy makes, but I’ve managed to get men to go out with me in the past. I might not have gotten them to stick around. But still… _who does he think he is anyway?_

"Come, Kara," he pleads. "It's just _one_ date."

As my hot-head cools off slowly, I realize… he’s right. It _has_ been a long time since I’ve been on a proper date. Not to mention that this morning I completely panicked around him, if it weren’t for him giving me hand, I wouldn't have known how to act. It may not be such a bad idea to give this ‘relationship’ a trial run before the wedding date. “Okay, fine,” I reluctantly agree. “I suppose it can’t hurt.”

Mon-El grins widely. “Great! How about Wednesday?”

“That’s tomorrow!” I protest.

“Exactly,” he retorts. “The sooner, the better.”

He might have a point. As soon as I get this fake-date done with and out of my way, the better. “Tomorrow it is, then.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he winks at me and stands up from his spot next to me, ready to leave.

“Where are you going?” I ask, suddenly missing the warmth he provided.

He grabs his jacket and his keys and makes for the door, before turning around and answering my question. “I have a date to plan.”

As he closes the door, I can’t help the unexpected smile on my face nor the butterflies in my stomach.

 


	4. Wednesday, June 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara and Mon-El go to their practice-date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, lovelies!  
> Here's the next chapter as promised.  
> I hope you like it!
> 
> P.S. I don't have a beta, so all mistakes are mine.

 

Mon-El has just texted me, saying he’d knock on my door in five minutes. I don’t know why he didn’t just deliver the message in person since he is currently sitting in the living room area watching TV with Lena; I can hear them murmuring through my door. I find it kind of ridiculous –though slightly charming– that he’s sticking to his word of _‘picking me up at seven.’_

As I stand in front of my full-length mirror, I nervously tug at the end of my dress trying to get rid of some invisible wrinkles. I’d lie if I said I didn’t feel nervous and excited. Even though I know this is not real, it’s been a really long time since I’ve been out on a date. And first dates are always fascinating for me; all the expectation, the mystery, the romance. This may not be a true first date, but for all intents and purposes we are supposed to act like it, so I might as well embrace it all.

I don’t know, maybe I’m putting too much effort. I admit I’d be more comfortable in boyfriend jeans, but since we agreed to treat this like an actual first date, I reluctantly stay in the knee-length red dress I chose. The neckline is deep enough to be enticing without being too revealing, I feel confident every time I wear and Lord know I could use all the extra confidence I can gather. I finally stop fiddling, deciding I look good enough, when there’s a light knock on my bedroom door. I grab my purse and open the door to find Mon-El standing there with his hands in his pockets, his top teeth biting his bottom lip and his head down while staring at his shoes.

“I’m ready,” I say and I catch Mon-El’s attention, who looks me up from bottom to top. His mouth opens up in surprise in a small “O” and his eyes practically bulge out of their sockets.

“Wow…” _Wow_ indeed. I never thought I’d see the day where Mon-El Gand would be rendered speechless. I give him a shy smile in response. “You look… _stunning._ ”

“Why, thank you,” I reply while giving him an once-over as well. “You don’t look too bad yourself, _babe._ ” It’s true. He doesn’t look too shabby. I’m glad I’m not the only one who decided to dress up for this practice-date. Mon-El is wearing a plaid dress shirt –the navy color making his eyes seem more brilliant than usual– with some dark jeans that hug his backside perfectly.

Mon-El’s eyes have always been so captivating to me. Whereas my baby blues are constant, his own sapphire orbs darken or lighten depending on his mood. I can tell when he’s happy or excited because they look astonishingly blue, but not any kind of blue; deep blue, like staring at the bottom of the ocean. When he’s sad or disappointed, his eyes take on a greyish hue, all stormy and cloudy. And when he’s angry or passionate, his eyes darken to the point of seeming like black holes sucking in the stars around him.

Today his eyes are the bluest I’ve ever seen. Meaning he’s actually looking forward to this. Which surprises but can’t say that bothers me.

“I feel so flattered,” Mon-El teases. I smack him on the head playfully as I walk past him and into the living room. Lena gives me a thumbs up and a smile as she’s talking on the phone with Jack. I can hear her inviting him over to stay the night since they’ll have the apartment all to themselves.

“So, where are we going?” I ask anxiously as I turn around to face Mon-El once again.

“Hang on,” he says as he goes towards the kitchen to grab something he hides behind his back as he walks back to me. “Since this is a proper date, here… These are for you.”

He extends his hands to show me a bouquet of sunflowers. They’re lovely. Big, golden, radiant, fully bloomed. I can’t help but feel touched by his gesture. “I- Thank you, Mon-El. Sunflowers are my favorite.”

“Yes, I know,” he says. “I remember how mad you were at me that time I stepped on your sunflowers in the garden when we were kids. Figured it was time to make it up to you.”

I can’t believe he remembers that. I’d almost forgotten. Who would’ve guessed? Mon-El Gand actually being thoughtful. I am moved beyond words that he put so much personal thought into his flower choice. I _do_ love sunflowers. Everyone always told me they were a weird flower choice, that I should pick more traditional flowers like roses or orchids or tulips as my favorites, but no. Sunflowers have always held a special place in my heart. My dad gave them to my mom on their first date. And ever since, every special occasion or romantic surprise in my household was marked by the presence of sunflowers. My parents have always been my biggest role models, even romance-wise. I dream of having a love like theirs, finding someone who understands and supports me like they do each other.

“Thank you,” I reply with a genuine smile. I then place them in a nearby jug filled with water.

“I still think this is stupid,” Lena says. “There’s no way you can pull this off.”

“Hence, the _practicing_ ,” Mon-El replies with a cheeky grin. Lena shakes her head again, and tells us to get out of here, halfheartedly wishing us good luck on our way out.

Lena has –understandably– not approved of our convoluted ploy. She says it’s some crazy immature shit right out of a high school teenage drama and that we are both too old to play games like this. She thinks it’s only a matter of time before we get too caught up in the web of lies we’ve spun and being left looking like utter fools. She is probably right, but there’s no going back now. It’s ride or die.

Nonetheless, despite not being too keen on the idea, Lena has agreed to go along with our story as she loves us both so much. She still throws her fair share of disapproving looks our way, but I'm glad she’s still on board. We’d never be able to do this without her help.

“Ready?” At my nod Mon-El gently takes my arm and guides me to the exit. We wave Lena goodbye and make our way out to the hallway. “Tonight will be the best date you’ve ever been on.”

I chuckle at his enthusiasm and silently accompany him to the elevators. 

* * *

 

_‘Shangri-La’_ the red neon sign reads and I smile _._ Mon-El has brought me to one of my favorite joints. We’ve been coming here since our childhood. It’s a fancy though reasonable priced Chinese restaurant that serves the best potstickers in the world. When I ask him what made him decide to come here, he just shrugs his shoulders and tells me that he knows how much I love the food and the place, and that he wanted to bring me somewhere he knew I’d feel comfortable in. Again, his thoughtfulness takes me aback for a while.

This is shaping up to be a great fake-first-date.

The car ride was surprisingly easy. I have always found it easy to talk to Mon-El. He just has that sort of soothing presence that makes you want to open up and spill all your darkest secrets. He’s so friendly. His pleasant small talk and self-deprecating sense of humor instantly puts you at ease. On the other hand, he’s also the sort of guy you can sit in comfortable silence with. Either way, he’s good company.

As the car pulls to a stop in the parking lot, I hop out quickly and start making my way towards the entrance but Mon-El's voice halts me. “Hey, wait up!” he calls as he jogs over to me. “What’s the hurry?” I look at him bemused. He looks at me amused. “You can't dart off like that without me. I was supposed to open the car door for you and help you out,” he explains.

“Mm, thank you,” I laugh sardonically. “But for your information, I’m not some damsel in distress. I can take care of myself, and also, I think I can handle getting out of a car without any help… thanks again, though.”

“I know that,” he says. “I know you can do it by yourself, Kara. I just wanted to do a nice chivalrous thing for you, okay? The kind of thing boyfriends do for their girlfriends…”

I’m still unconvinced. I’m a strong independent woman. I don’t like having people do stuff for me, even if they mean well. I mean… opening the door for me? I don’t need anyone doing that. And I wouldn’t even let a _real_ boyfriend do these sort of things for me.

Mon-El sees my apprehension and continues. “Hold my hand,” he says interlacing his long graceful fingers between mine. His hands are calloused and warm. Instead of putting me off, I find it actually soothes me. Grounds me. I like the rough feel of his hand holding mine; I distrust people with too-soft hands, means they don’t do much. I’m a doer. And I like people who are doers also. Practicality is my thing. “I know you don’t like it when people do things for you,” he adds and I’m surprised he knows me so well, “but that’s the type of man I am. I like doing nice things for my loved ones. So, for the time being, suck it up and trust me, please?”

My brain chooses to ignore his hint at me being one of those he loves. And the thing is, I _do_ trust him. I always have. Always will. He’s looked out for Lena and I –and even Alex– for most of our lives. Even when I find him annoying most of the time, he’s never given me a reason not to trust him.

“Fine,” I whine. “I’m in your hands, Mon-El… Quite literally.”

Mon-El smiles triumphantly as he walks me to the restaurant entrance, swinging our joined hands in the small space between us. I try not to look too displeased as he holds the door open for me. A part of me finds it charming, while the other just gets extremely irritated.

“Welcome to Shangri-La!” The hostess greets us and I notice how she not so subtly eyes Mon-El up and down appreciatively. I am not stupid. I know how good-looking he is. But still… _rude_. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes, reservation for two,” Mon-El responds but I can barely hear him. I can’t stop noticing the way that woman is ogling at him hungrily. I think she asks him something and he answers. I don’t know, my ears are fuming. “Under the name of Mon-El Gand.”

Her snake-like eyes become even more ravenous at the mention of his family, and I become livid. We get it, bitch. He’s handsome and rich –his family, at least. Whatever… Now, back off!

In high school, many girls would often try to befriend Lena and I in the hopes of getting closer to him. ( _As if…_ ) To be honest, his handsomeness used to have no effect on me. When you have known someone since they were a scrawny little kid, and have seen their face all covered in mud and paint, or seen them through their ugly acne phase, it’s hard to feel any attraction. However, age has done wonders in him. He shredded his boyish roundness for rough manly sharp edges. His eyes –vivid azure, like precious sapphires– have grown in depth and wisdom, and his strong perfectly sculpted jaw –that I have heard lots of girls gush about– is now covered by a sexy constant five o’clock shadow. And don’t even get me started on his body. At nearly thirty years old, he’s managed to keep in perfect shape. His sinewy muscles are well-defined and sinuous without being grotesque. Which means he can pull off wearing tight clothes wonderfully –like the ones he’s wearing tonight–, for my benefit, of course.

Anyhow, I just don't like the way that hostess is leering at him. She doesn't know this date is supposed to be fake. I mean, it’s disrespectful! _How dare she?_

An almost demonic possessive urge –I didn't even know I had– forces me to press my body onto his, and I give her my most menacing evil glare to show her he is _mine_. She flinches and I smirk in victory, before she proceeds to lead us to our table.

As Mon-El lets her walk in front, he pulls my back to his chest wrapping his arms around my waist and whispers in my ear. “You have nothing to worry about… I’m all yours.” All the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end as his breath hits a sensitive spot behind my ear that sends electricity running down my spine. I catch the hostess turning her eyes away guiltily as she observes us. _Damn_ , Mon-El knows exactly how to play it.

She brings us to our table and waits for us to sit down. I go to sit on the chair furthest away but Mon-El refuses to let go of my hand and tugs me back to him. “Milady,” he says with a pleasant smile and a small bow as he pulls out my chair and gets me to sit down. This gentlemanly act is already starting to grind my gears. I should negotiate this when we get home. In the meantime, might as well make the most of it.

The hostess hands us some menus and departs, leaving us to choose our orders. We decide quickly since we’ve been here so many times before that we know the menu by heart. We both choose our favorite dishes and an extra side dish of potstickers.

After our orders have been taken and the menus handed back, Mon-El reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. Instinctively, I try to pull away but he presses my hand more tightly to hold me in place. “You’ll have to get used to me touching you,” he says gently and I agree. I know this already. It will just take some time. I haven’t been like this around anyone for years. And I’ve never been like this around him before. Period. “And… you’ll have to get used to touching me back.”

I go pale. This is what I dreaded. Public displays of affection have never been my thing. They seem too false and show-off-y to me. Mon-El senses my trepidation and squeezes my hand reassuringly. “Trust me, it's easy,” he continues. “Here, I’ll show you.”

Again I ask myself what I have gotten myself into. He slowly lets go of my hand and takes a piece of garlic break from the basket in the middle of the table, and takes a huge bite, leaving a trail of crumbs around his lips. “Do I have something on my mouth?”

I can’t help but laugh at him. “Yeah, a little bit…”

“Good, go ahead, wipe it off,” he tells me and I look at him as if he’s demented. I don't see how this will be of any help. Yet, I reach across the table and roughly wipe off the breadcrumbs with a napkin. Mon-El shakes his head at me with an amused smile on his face. “No, not like that… Softer, okay? I'm not some crying messy toddler that you’re babysitting; I am the man you love. You have to be gentle... Like this,” he says and then proceeds to lick his thumb and delicately wipe off an imaginary crumb from the corner of my mouth. His thumb seductively lingers on the spot before he slowly runs it along my bottom lip. I am mesmerized. I watch in awe as he retracts his thumb and gives me his signature lopsided grin. “Now’s your turn.”

I do as he says, licking my finger like he did and removing the crumbs from the corner of his mouth. As I’m about to remove my thumb from his face, he catches my hand and brings it up to his lips, placing a tender kiss on my knuckles. “Poor is the pupil who does not surpass his master…” he recites placing my hand back on the table with a beaming smile. I return his smile feeling extremely proud of myself. Maybe Mon-El is right… this is easy.

I spend the rest of our meal trying to be as overtly affectionate towards him as I can be. He certainly doesn’t make it too hard on me. I just watch whatever Mon-El does and carbon copy his every move; pat his forearm in comfort, rub soothing circles on his palm, run my fingers through his hair pushing it back from his forehead. It goes against all my natural instincts –even when I was dating James, I was never this touchy-feely– but with Mon-El it actually feels good to do it.

I find myself having fun. Even if my flirtation attempts have been mediocre at best, Mon-El doesn’t show it. We talk about anything and everything under the stars. We discuss my hopes for my new editorial position, his potential art buyers, the dread I feel over the upcoming nuptials, and the recently acquired temp job he found as a bartender. We catch ourselves throwing our heads back in laughter until our sides hurt by reliving some of our most embarrassing childhood anecdotes.

Perhaps it’s the fact that I know this is not going anywhere that takes the pressure off. Perhaps it’s the familiarity, so I don’t have to try so hard to find things in common. Perhaps it’s just _him_. I don’t know. But whatever it is, this is the best date I’ve ever been on. I guess it shouldn’t come as a shock that Mon-El has kept his word.

As we wait for the attendant to bring us the check, a gorgeous woman approaches our table eyeing our joined hands warily. She’s petite but with a killer body and has vibrant blue hair. I’m like a pedestrian watching an awful car crash, I just can’t stop staring. _Who is she?_

“Oh, looky, looky… what do we have here?” the blue girl says with a smirk. “If it isn’t Mon-El Gand, as I live and breathe.”

“Giggles,” Mon-El greets her with a nod and I can’t help but chortle at what I hope it’s only a terrible nickname.

“No wonder I haven’t seen you around anymore,” she throws a judgmental look my way. “I never thought I’d live to see the day you finally got whipped.”

_Excuse me?_ I’m not whipping anybody. Mon-El doesn’t let go of my hand as he turns to answer her. “Well… it’s a recent development.”

Giggles pays homage to her name and proceeds to –you guessed it– giggle. I think I get her fitting alias now. For such a stunning looking woman, her childish giggles sound foreign coming from her.

“Don’t worry about it,” she places a hand on his shoulder placatingly and winks, “I’ll miss you, though.”

Mon-El teasingly offers his apologies and she offers us heartfelt congratulations in return before taking her leave. I feel awkward all of the sudden and rapidly pull my hand away from his. Mon-El looks between surprised and stricken at my move.

“Was she-?” I can’t even get myself to finish the question that’s burning my insides. She must be. I don’t know how I haven’t thought of this before. “Did you guys-?”

“Yeah, we did… but it wasn’t serious,” Mon-El takes my hand back and smiles reassuringly. “It was a one-time thing, Kara. We met at the gym and went out once. Shortly thereafter I became too broke to afford the tuition anymore. And I never saw her again.”

I groan loudly, feeling ashamed of myself. That girl wanted to date him for real. And I’m just _using_ him. What am I doing? Am I preventing Mon-El to be in a real loving and meaningful relationship over my stupid lie?

“What if she was the future Mrs. Gand?” I ask while gazing down at our interlinked hands.

“Come on,” Mon-El states incredulously. “Giggles was a one-night-stand, Kara. Not exactly wife material.”

“You don't know that,” I contradict.

“Believe me, Danvers,” he says. “I know what I want, and she was definitely not my type.”

I shrug. “If you say so…”

“I do say so,” Mon-El emphasizes. “Where is this coming from, anyway?”

“I just... What if-” I hesitate for a moment before plunging forward. “What if you miss the opportunity to meet the love of your life just because you’re too busy pretending to date _me_?”

“Who says I haven’t met her already?” I raise an eyebrow in sardonic disbelief and he laughs as he continues. “Seriously, though… it’s only for a month, Kara. I won’t find the love of my life in just five weeks.”

“You might…” I state.

“True, but I don’t want to,” he counters. “I’m not looking to get married right now. Besides, I’m with you on this. I can’t back down now.”

I nod my head in agreement but the remorse doesn’t go away. Mon-El senses my reluctant acceptance and starts to argue but stops short when the waitress comes with our check. I move to grab it but he is faster and beats me to it. He quickly reads the invoice and surreptitiously hands her his credit card.

“You shouldn’t pile up on your debt,” I say.

Mon-El laughs in response. “I may not be able to pay a thousand dollars a month in rent, but I am able to treat you to dinner. Besides… I came across some money yesterday,” he winks. “I won a bet.”

I stick my tongue out at him which makes him laugh harder. The corners of his eyes wrinkle from mirth. His laugh is infectious, and without noticing I start laughing, too.

The waitress is back with Mon-El’s card and receipt, and we thank her for the service. Mon-El stands up and, despite my warning glare, he helps me out of my chair. His hand goes to my lower back, rising goosebumps all over my body, as he guides us toward the restaurant’s exit. We pass the hostess on our way out, and I make a point of moving closer to Mon-El. She quickly turns away at the sight. _I win._

As we walk through the parking lot to where his car is, I contemplate Mon-El’s track record and his current sentimental status as a single male. I don’t get it. How’s he not taken? I remember growing up, he’d always say he wanted a family. The loving wife, the cute kids, the big house in the country, and a dog or two. The whole nine yards. With his charisma and good looks, I thought he’d be latched by now.

I do know he came pretty close after college. He’d been dating a fellow art major for over two years. Her name was Dana. She’d even moved in with him at some point. They were both struggling new artists who were taking it day by day, barely making ends meet; but they seemed truly happy. It looked like she was _the one_. Unfortunately, she got severely involved in drugs and her uncontrollable addiction caused the relationship to crumble. Mon-El was shattered. He tried so hard to get her the help she needed. He supported her through rehab twice. But some people don’t want to be helped, and Mon-El learned that lesson the hard way. And as they say, third time is the charm. When she checked herself out of rehab early that last time, he finally decided it was time to call it quits.

I remember he felt so guilty after breaking up with Dana. Lena and I gave him plenty of pep-talks to help him see it was an unhealthy detrimental relationship that would go nowhere, unless she decided to get her act together. He almost came back to her after she overdosed. Lena and I tried to talk him out of it, but he insisted; he visited her at the hospital and took care of her. Nevertheless, soon after being released she stole his entire portfolio and sold it without his permission to buy more drugs; which made him come to terms with his decision to end things, and realized it was the right thing to do. Still, I know there’s a part of him that never forgave himself for not being enough to save her.

Mon-El cut all ties and until this day we don’t know what happened to her.

Remembering what a wonderful boyfriend he was to Dana, makes me more and more curious as to the reasons he hasn’t settled down yet.

“Why don’t you?” I wonder aloud.

He takes his eyes off the road for a second and turns to me with a puzzled look. “Why don’t I… what?”

“Why don’t you want to get married yet?” I ask bluntly.

“Straight to the point, huh?” he chuckles and pauses as he ponders my question. “Well… it’s hard to get married when you don’t have someone to get married to.”

Fair enough, but that still doesn’t answer my question. “Why are you still single, then?”

“Easy,” he replies. “I haven’t found the right girl.”

“Why haven’t you?” I’ve gone into full reporter mode, trying to gather all the important information.

He scoffs. “You do realize you sound like a four-year-old asking too many whys?”

“Don’t change the subject!” I object. “You’re smart, kind, funny, handsome… and you can cook! What more could a girl need?”

“Money?” he asks sarcastically.

“You know what I mean!” I protest.

“If I’d known you had such a high opinion of me,” he says. “I would’ve had you writing my Tinder profile long time ago.” Mon-El gets pensive with his eyes trained in front of him, before he continues, “If I tell you, do you promise not to make fun of me?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“The truth is… I don’t wanna get married until I know for sure that I can give my family everything they deserve. Being so unstable, financially speaking, as I am now, doesn’t really give me enough motivation to get married and have kids just to watch them struggle because of me,” he confesses and I can’t really argue with his reasoning. I know where he’s coming from. “I want it all. And I want to be able to provide for my family. It’s not fair to throw all the load on my wife. You know?”

Well, color me surprised. Although many would think him old-fashioned for thinking that way, I actually admire him. It’s not that he doesn’t want a working independent wife. He’s only being realistic. Nowadays, a household is very seldom maintained on one salary alone. He wants to be able to help, to hold up his end of the bargain. Which makes sense. He only wants the best for his own family, and he won’t go looking for one until he’s sure he can give them that.

“Yeah,” I say. “I know.”

“Anyways, it’s not going to happen anytime soon,” he declares. “I’m living on your couch, for Rao’s sake!”

I reach for his hand across the center console and give him a reassuring squeeze. He looks up startled when I do. “You’ll have it all someday, Mon-El. You just wait and see.”

I’ve always wondered if it’s really possible to have it all in life. Knowing that Mon-El has the same irrational worry makes me feel better about myself and, also, gives me hope that maybe it _can_ be done.

“Thank you, Kara,” he says, giving me a grateful smile. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll find my soulmate at the wedding.”

A suddenly pang of an unknown feeling hits my chest when I think of him being with someone else at the wedding. However, I bury it as soon as it surfaces. “Who knows? She might be right under your nose.”

“Yeah,” he gives me a shy smile and another gentle squeeze. “Who knows?”

He continues to drive us home in silence and I grin, feeling like I understand Mon-El so much better now. 

* * *

 

When we get to our building he takes my hand as we make our way to the elevators. We laugh the entire way up to the loft as he raconteurs the time he changed Lex’s shampoo for depilatory cream, leaving his step-brother bald for weeks. Turns out the prank was prophetic, since Lex has fully embraced the hairless look now.

I unlock the door and turn the lights on to see the living room is empty, meaning Lena and Jack are already in bed. We go in further into the apartment, and Mon-El moves to where the extra pillows and sheets are kept in the cabinet.

“I had a really nice time,” I say honestly, kind of surprised I do mean it.

Mon-El turns around and beams at me. “Me, too. We haven’t hung out just the two of us for a long time, I’d missed it.”

“I’d missed it, too,” I confess and then I say, “I didn’t expect the practice date to go this well, to be completely honest with you. I think we’ll be able to fool everyone.”

Mon-El slightly shakes his head. “We’ll either fool everyone, or we’ll end up looking like fools.”

We stand in silence for a moment before I decide to put into use some of what I have learned tonight. I stealthily make my way to where he’s standing holding the bedding to his chest, and press my body to his right side. “Goodnight, Mon-El,” I say softly, looking up through my eyelashes; before I reach on my tip-toes and kiss his cheek tenderly. “Sweet dreams.”

“’Night, Kara,” he replies with his dark blue eyes piercing into my own. I beam in response and go to my room, closing the door behind me.

A few minutes later, as I lie on my bed with my eyes closed and reflect back on the evening, I realize I don't remember the last time I had such a good time with a guy.

 


	5. Three days later...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mon-El and Lena go to brunch with their mothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies!  
> Here's a brief interlude written from Mon-El's POV.  
> I hope you enjoy hearing his thoughts! ;)
> 
> Next chapter the real fun begins!

I grunt as I blearily crack my eyes open. When I get up, I notice neither Kara nor my sister have woken up yet. I put the extra blankets and pillows back on the cupboard, straighten out the plush cushions on the couch, and head to the kitchen to make the girls some breakfast.

Cooking helps me relax. And Rao knows I need to relax right now.

Lena and I have the mandatory monthly brunch with our mothers in three hours. To say I’m not looking forward to it would be the understatement of the century. I know they’re going to give me the third degree about my relationship with Kara. And the worst part is, I won’t even have Kara there with me to help me deal with it.

I’m finishing a fresh batch of waffles when Kara exits her room. She looks adorable in cute flannel pajamas and with her hair up in a messy bun. “Good morning, _girlfriend_.”

“Good morning, _boyfriend_ ,” she replies without missing a beat. For the last three days we’ve been getting more comfortable in our newfound fake relationship. I can’t lie and say I’m not having fun. Kara and I have always gotten along great, she’s actually one of my best friends. I love spending time with her. She’s so smart and funny, and kind and beautiful. She’s as good as it gets.

“I made waffles,” I say and she hums in appreciation.

“Yum, they look delicious!” she exclaims and sits in front of me. I place a generous serving before her, and she takes a huge bite after bathing the pile of waffles in her favorite caramel syrup. “So, are we going out with Alex and Maggie tonight?”

I’d almost forgotten. I was so busy dreading this brunch with my mother, it completely slipped my mind. “Sure. What time are we meeting them, again?”

“Nine.”

I nod. Now, _that_ I’m looking forward to. We’re going on a double date to a karaoke bar. I can’t wait to hear Kara sing. As she once said it herself, she puts the _Kara_ in _karaoke_. “Sounds great!”

Lena chooses to join us at that moment. However, she’s always so grumpy in the mornings, we know by now to never speak to her before she has a cup of coffee in her hands.

She sits next to Kara and I slid the mug of dark brew towards her. “Good morning, guys,” Lena greets us after her first few sips.

“’Morning,” both Kara and I say at the same time. I place a plate of waffles in front of Lena as well, and grab my own cup of coffee.

The three of us sit huddled together, having breakfast in silence. When we are done, Lena picks after ourselves,  
I wash the dirty dishes, and Kara dries and stores them away. We make a great team, if I do say so myself. We’re like The Three Musketeers. Or, it’s more like they’re the dynamic duo –Batman and Robin– and I’m Batgirl. The seamless complement to an already great pairing.

After we’re done, I decide to tidy up around the loft until I notice the clock in the microwave. 9:37 AM. I should start getting ready. “I’m gonna hit the shower,” I excuse myself. “I wouldn’t want to be late and give Mom one more reason to be disappointed in me.”

“Okay,” Lena says from her spot on the couch where she’s watching the morning news on TV. “Don’t use all the hot water!”

“Good luck, Mon,” Kara calls me by my childhood nickname and that’s how I know she truly means it. When we were little kids, Kara had a bit of trouble saying my name correctly, so she shortened it. I always gave her a hard time over that fact. I’ve told her not to call me that, but to be honest, I secretly love it when she calls me Mon. She only calls me that way in the rare moments when she’s serious and trying to be nice to me; since ninety percent of the time we are relentlessly teasing one another.

She gives me an encouraging pat on the shoulder, as she moves to join Lena on the sofa. I give her a grateful smile and her own childhood nickname in return. “Thanks, Comets.”

Moments later, as the shower’s stream hits my body, I can’t help but think I’m gonna need all the luck I can get.

* * *

 

I sit with my sister, who is texting her boyfriend on her cellphone, and scan the brunch options on the menu. I feel fidgety with my legs bouncing under the table. I’m debating what to order, but honestly, I’m not that hungry –or, at all. I’m still full from breakfast. I know, though, that if I refuse to eat, my mother will take it as an offense.

Lillian and Rhea are running late. They were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. It doesn’t surprise me, to be honest. Mother thinks that making people wait for her creates a sense of superiority, therefore, she’s always the last to arrive everywhere she goes.

“God, could they just _get_ here already?” Lena complains to me, dropping her phone inside her purse. “I have plans with Jack.”

I lift my gaze up from the menu to smile sympathetically at her. “You know them… they’ll never take into account the fact that we have lives outside of doing their bidding.”

Lena sits back in her chair with a huff. She is clearly not looking forward to this brunch any more than I am, and I can’t really blame her. Brunches with our mothers are a taxing affair. Just a lame excuse to be reminded of our failures and the things we haven’t achieved in our lives. And with me being currently single –because a fake relationship doesn’t count–, unemployed –because a temp job as a bartender doesn’t count, either– and homeless –yeah, you guessed it, living in your sister’s couch neither does it count… there’s plenty ammunition.

If birds of a feather flock together, then their feather is criticizing their offspring –except for Lex, he’s the perfect fledgling; it’s just me and Lena who are the ugly ducklings. At least Lena has Rhea’s protection against Lilian’s barbs. She’s my mother’s favorite; while Lex is Lillian’s. Which means, I am left as the unwanted expendable spare.

As you can see, our family dynamics are complicated –bordering on dysfunctional.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” Lena sighs as she brings herself into a more upright position. “They’re obviously only interested in your new _relationship_ with Kara.”

Lena rolls her eyes as she stresses the word ‘relationship’. It is my turn to huff and lean back in my chair, as I nervously run a hand through my hair.

As you can imagine, to say Her Majesty, Queen Rhea, is hard to please, doesn’t even begin to cover it. That’s why her reaction caught me so unawares. I’d never expected my mother –of all people– to actually approve of something I’d done, especially not a girl I’d dated. Guess I was wrong. Turns out, Kara is the well-rounded daughter-in-law she always dreamed of having. She’s over the moon that we’re ‘dating’. Since she found out, she’s been hounding me with questions about the two of us, through hundreds of phone calls and messages. For the first time since I can remember, I seem to have made my mother proud of me. And it’s not even _real_.

I know how mad she’ll be when I tell her there is _no_ relationship, after Clark and Lois’ wedding. Whatever… it’s just one more ammo she can use against me.

On the other hand, I find this whole situation with Kara to be entirely too amusing for my own good. I was perplexed when she threw herself at me that morning Lois came over. I bet my deer-caught-in-headlights look was top notch. I mean… Kara Danvers? Hugging me? Flirting? Trying to show affection? It would’ve been almost downright laughable, if it hadn’t been so endearingly awkward. I swear I’ve never met anyone as uncomfortable with human tough as that girl; it’s almost as if she’s afraid she’ll break you if she touches you.

After Kara explained her ridiculous plan to me, I couldn’t say no to her. As if I could ever say no to her, especially when she uses her big blue doe-ish comet-like eyes on me. They work _every_ time. Besides, I wanted to help her. She’s like another sister to me. She was constantly at our place while we were growing up, always hanging out with Lena and –by extension– me. The three of us would relentlessly pull pranks and wind each other up. Although, the girls would more often than not gang up against me. We had great times together. We still do. Our relationship has carried on and only strengthened as we’ve become adults. I care for Kara as much as I care for Lena. And I’d do anything for them.

Even engage in a fake relationship.

I’d be lying if I said I’m not thoroughly enjoying myself, watching Kara squirm over the re-negotiated terms of our relationship. Practice dates, gentlemanly behavior, public displays of affection. That’s one of the perks of being almost like siblings, I get to tease her endlessly over her many inadequacies when it comes to wooing men.

Truth is, I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun in my life –and believe you me, I’ve had my fair share of fun in the past. But with Kara, I don’t know… it’s like we don’t even have to try.

“You should be thanking me,” I reply eventually. “I’m giving you a free-pass from the newest edition of our mothers’ hellish interrogation and thinly veiled insults.”

Lena smirks. “You brought this on yourself.”

“What would you have had me do?” I ask. “I couldn’t refuse and you know it! Kara needed my help.”

“That doesn’t mean I still don’t think this is crazy, Mon-El. I know you mean well, but…” she pauses to look me dead in the eyes, before she sighs and continues. “I just have a bad feeling about this. I don’t wanna end up having to choose between my best friend and my brother.”

“You won’t have to, Lena,” I try to assuage her fears, and give her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I promise.”

Lena just nods her head and squeezes my hand back, before releasing it to pick up her menu.

Lena has reacted as well as could be to our peculiar arrangement. I know I expected a lot worse. Like, I imagined my sister throwing my stuff out the window and kicking me out of the apartment mercilessly in the middle of the night. However, she’s taken it better than predicted. Not as far as actually being _okay_ with it, but at least she’s agreed to play along for the time being –only because she loves us both so much and wants us to be happy. And well, right now, not being embarrassed beyond redemption is the only thing we desire for our happiness.

The room suddenly feels ten degrees colder. That can only mean one thing.

They’re here.

Rhea and Lillian make their grand entrance holding perfectly manicured hands, and their ten-thousand-dollar Birkin bags in the other. They look straight out of an episode of Desperate Housewives. My mom with her five-inch high-heels from Christian Louboutin. And Lillian with her Gucci sunglasses perched on the top of her head.

Their fashion sense makes me cringe. It’s so _overkill_.

Lena and I both stand to greet them. We exchange kisses on the cheek, before moving to take our seats.

“How are you, children?” Lillian asks breezily as she sits down next my own mother. “It’s too bad that your brother couldn’t join us,” she states regretfully, and directs her best accusatory gaze towards Lena. “Unfortunately, he had some urgent business to oversee at LG Corp.”

Lena and I both give her a forced smile. Man, it didn’t take very long for the first round to be fired.

Lena is the second-in-command over at the family’s company, so every time Lex shines over his workaholic tendencies –since he has no life outside of his CEO desk, whatsoever– she likes to infer Lena is not working hard enough.

_Who are we kidding?_ We’re never enough.

Especially not me.

We’ll never live up to the expectations set before by my older step-brother. His blind obedience, cunning manipulation, and almost cruel exploit of other people’s weaknesses to get ahead in business, make him the _perfect_ son in our mothers’ eyes. We will both forever be considered failures until we can match his _grandeur_.

On the bright side, Lena still has her ‘real job’ and successful boyfriend working in her favor.

I have nothing.

I flatten the invisible creases on my dress-shirt with my hands and take my own seat across my sister, giving her a commiserating look.

“How are you, Mother?” I ask to change the subject. _Bad idea._

“Oh, I’m ecstatic,” she replies with no inflection, which belies her excitement. “I must say I’m disappointed, though.” My mother. Rhea Gand. Certifiable Evil Ice Queen. Disappointed? In me? _Unfathomable_!

“How come?” I feign ignorance.

“That you didn’t bring Kara along, of course!” _Of course_. “I wished to personally convey my congratulations on your relationship to _her_.”

Her message is loud and clear. Kara gets all the good wishes and pats in the back. Not me. Never me. She’s never acknowledged any accolade of mine in the expanse of my existence. Why start now? Wouldn’t want to break a twenty-eight year perfect strike now, would we?

Oh, boy. They sure are on fire today! That was the second round fired in less than two minutes since they walked in.

I can see Lena roll her eyes opposite me. I frown. “Sorry, she’s just really busy now setting things up for her new position at CatCo,” I reply trying to appease her.

“I heard about that,” Lillian says absentmindedly while roaming the menu. “Jeremiah told me when I ran into him last week.”

Jeremiah Danvers and Lillian Luthor were scientists. They met thirty-five years ago as colleagues, while working on Project Cadmus for the now extinct LuthorCorp. They struck an odd friendship, more like mutual professional respect towards each other. When Lillian and Rhea moved in together –and decided to move us kids along with them– they found the perfect suburban home in Midvale, the quaint small neighborhood located on the outskirts of National City, right next door to one Danvers family.

Can’t say I regret the outcome. It got me the best sister and the best almost-sister I could’ve ever wished for.

Nowadays, Jeremiah is happily retired, and Lillian lives off her divorce settlement from Lionel Luthor. They still live next-door to each other with their respective spouses in our same childhood homes. While we –Kara, Alex, Lena and I– have all moved out for college and to the heart of the city as soon we finished high school.

“But, surely she could have spared a couple of hours to indulge me,” Mon exclaims.

I choose to indulge her by ignoring her. “Maybe another time.”

Her pinched look and pursed lips tell me that this answer hasn’t pleased her very much. I turn my eyes down, hoping that she’ll let it go, when she signals the waiter to take her order. I breathe out in relief.

The poor guy is sweating profusely by the time he moves around to take Lillian’s order.

“I must say… I’m surprised, Mon-El,” my mom states. “I never imagined you’d get yourself a woman like Kara. I’m delighted that the two of you are together… I have always found her to be a terrific and accomplished girl, and an amazing loyal friend to Lena over the years –and to you, also, for some reason.”

I open my mouth to respond, however, her singing of Kara’s praises continues uninterrupted. “She comes from a decent family, we know her parents, her sister; they’re all are good people. Plus, no other woman would tolerate your flakiness when it comes to a proper career.”

Lena smirks and bites her lip to prevent from laughing. “You _do_ make a cute couple," she says sarcastically.

I kick her under the table – _hard_. I don't need her encouraging my mother’s delusions any further.

“Yeah,” I say, trying to bring the topic to a close. “Kara’s great. We’re great. Everything’s… _great_.”

“That’s good.” And just when I thought I’d done it, that I’d gotten out of it relatively unscathed, Mom manages to throw one last deadly shot at me. “It’s not like you can do any better, anyways.”

_Ouch_. I’m not sure if I should take her words as an insult to solely me, or to Kara as well. Well, considering she’s just expressed her extreme affinity towards my fake-girlfriend, I’m more inclined to believe the former.

I swallow thickly, sending a silent prayer to whichever gods may be hearing for this to be over soon. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Did you know about them, Lena?” Lillian asks curiously.

“That’s right,” my mother interjects, sounding momentarily affronted. “You must’ve known about this since the beginning. Why didn’t you tell me?”

The smirk disappears off Lena's face and it’s my turn to suppress a smug grin.

Lena has been my mother’s protégé ever since I can remember. She took her under her wing, nurtured and mentored her –all the things she never did with me. Despite the fact that we have an abysmal mother/son dynamic, Mom and Lena do seem to have a somewhat functional and loving mother/daughter relationship. Which I can’t help but envy from time to time.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy my sister found validation where her own mother couldn’t give it to her. She _is_ my sister. I love her to death. I want the best for her, always. I want her to be happy.

So, if my being left behind it’s what it takes for Lena to have the mother she wants and deserves, then that’s that. 

Still, I have to admit, it hurts sometimes. But I know it’s not Lena’s fault. It’s my mother’s. She could never learn to love me, and by now, I’ve learned to ignore it and let it go.

It’s all good.

“I’m sorry, but they both swore me to the secrecy,” Lena replies.

Mother critically raises her eyebrows at us both. I can see it in her eyes that she wants to say something to me, but blaming me for _this_ , means also blaming Kara. That she is most definitely not going to allow. “Anyways, it doesn’t matter now. I would’ve liked to have been told sooner, but-” she says resigned, and pauses momentarily before exclaiming. “She truly is an amazing woman, Mon-El. Don’t you ever let her go!”

She stares at me straight in the eye as those words leave her mouth, her brown-eyed gaze serious and sincere. This must be the first time in my life I’ve ever gotten her actual outspoken approval on something –anything– and I don’t know how to react. I take a deep gulp and barely manage to nod my head in reply.

_Mothers know best._ Right? That’s what people say.

Suddenly, I can't imagine doing anything else.

* * *

 

The rest of the brunch goes relatively smoothly. My fictional relationship with Kara is enough to distract my demanding mother from the fact that I am currently bartending for a living –turns out, a mixologist is not a suitable profession either– and sleeping on Lena’s couch. Her queries about Kara and me are exhausting, and I find myself constantly second-guessing my answers, afraid to fall in some contradiction. I don't want to expose ourselves as liars before the real lying has even begun.

All in all, our moms are pretty happy with this development. Lillian –if I didn’t get a concussion in the middle of the meal, somehow, and started symptomatically hallucinating– even offers me a small smile, and tells me she is proud of me. I swear I almost suffer an apoplexy when that happened. Rhea, on the other hand, can’t stop gushing about Kara. It’s nice, though, makes a pleasant change from her usual constant nagging. Lena spends most of the brunch trying not to roll her eyes. I can tell she is finding it hard not to spit out the truth and be done with it all.

Lena and I both get up after the meal is over and say our goodbyes. Jack is picking Lena up for their after plans, and I am walking back to the loft since it’s only a couple of blocks away.

However, I am stopped at the exit by my mother. “Mon-El, you can’t walk home. It looks like rain. Come, we’ll drive you,” she insists. Lena and I share a suspicious look. Offering me a ride seldom happened when I was a kid, so her offering one at this point in my life seems questionable. There must be some ulterior motive to this. “That way, I can drop by for a few minutes and say hi to Kara.”

Of course, _there it is_. She just wants a chance to personally examine Kara and me together.

“Okay, then,” Lena says and walks to where Jack is waiting inside his car. He waves at me, and I wave back. “See you guys later.”

After Jack and Lena disappear from view, Lillian breaks the silence and asks, “Shall we?”

I nod, reluctantly agreeing, knowing it’d come off as rude to decline their offer. I follow both ladies to their shiny new Audi, with only one thought resonating in my head:

_Grife!_

* * *

 

I hold my keys ready in hand and lead the way up to the apartment. As we arrive at the girls’ loft, I unlock the door as quickly as possible –considering how badly my hands are sweating– and we all enter the apartment to an unsuspecting Kara.

“Hi!” I exclaim, giving her a both warning and apologetic look. “Hey, look who decided to pop by!”

“Hi!” Kara is sitting sprawled on the couch with her glasses perched on her nose, reading a well-worn copy of the first Harry Potter book. Despite my current nerves, that brings a smile to my face. I’d recognize that copy anywhere –I gave her the entire Harry Potter collection as her sweet-sixteen birthday gift. She looks up to smile at us as we enter, but her eyes soon go wide with shock and alarm as she spies our surprise visitors. “Rhea, Lillian… to what do we owe the pleasure?” Kara says as she gets up to greet them.

Kara gets a kiss in the cheek from Lillian, and a short embrace from my mother. “Oh, we just thought we’d come by and offer our congratulations in person,” Mom says, still holding tightly onto Kara's forearms. “I already scolded my son for not bringing you to brunch today.”

Kara gives me a petrified look. She is clearly not prepared for dealing with this today. She thought she’d have weeks to perfect our act, after all, we still have lots of practicing left to do. I just smirk at her in response, rising my eyebrows in challenge. This is like feeding her a spoon of her own medicine. Let’s see how well she improvises under pressure. Anyhow, I do find her feeble attempts at fibbing to be highly amusing. Moreover, she was the one to get us into this mess in the first place. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it, I was busy,” she apologizes weakly.

I chuckle lightly to myself at her discomfort. Her excuse doesn't sound at all convincing, but luckily for her, my mother is too much in cloud-nine to notice. I thought she’d be better at the whole lying thing by now, however, Kara still has a lot of work ahead of her if she’s planning on convincing everybody at the wedding.

“It’s okay, babe,” I say, taking a few strides and coming to stand next to her, I wrap my arm around her shoulders in mock comfort. “You didn’t miss much.”

“Oh, really?” she demands.

“Yes, we only spent the _entire_ meal discussing you, Kara,” Lillian says, sounding almost amused. “Mon-El and Rhea just can’t stop talking about you.”

Kara lets out a nervous –sort of panicked– laugh. “All good, I hope,” she says uneasily.

I drop my gaze to the floor and bite my lip to hide my mirth at her nerves before deciding to help her out a bit. I change positions, moving to stand behind her instead of by her side; and I softly bring my arms around her waist, hugging her back tightly to my chest. This type of contact doesn't faze me. I'm a pretty affectionate person and have no problem embracing a person I am close with. Kara, on the other hand, I’m starting to suspect might suffer from allergies to human skin. I can feel her immediately tense under the unfamiliar touch, but after I give a reassuring squeeze, she eventually relaxes in my arms.

“What bad thing could we possibly say about you?” I speak to her ear, with a cheeky glint in my eye, and kiss her cheek warmly.

Mom smiles on at us blissfully content. She looks genuinely happy for us. And for the first time in my life, I feel guilty about lying to her.

The feeling of guilt sure is short-lived, however, as I hear my mother telling Kara that maybe she’ll be able to finally push me to find a ‘real job’ and quit my artistic delusional dreams.

_Here we go again._

I visibly roll my eyes at that, and move to release Kara from my grasp. She’s freakishly strong, though, and with a hard pull on my hands, she keeps us locked together in the embrace. “As a matter of fact, I believe Mon-El is an incredible artist… he’s so talented. His artwork is wonderful! I’m his biggest fan,” Kara declares and stuns everyone in the room –including me. “Besides, I’d never push him to give up something that he loves and that he’s actually really _good_ at.”

I inspect her profile, surprised that she stood up for me. She looks so determined and fierce, like a warrior. I know she sees me as the annoying older brother she never had –nor wanted– but I am touched all the same that she defended me and my choices in front of the Evil Queen Mother. Kara Danvers, my very own knight in shining armor… who knew? Her comment, at least, seems to have shut her up for the time being, for which I give her a grateful smile in response. Lillian quickly moves on to ask about Kara’s promotion in order to defuse the tension that permeates in the air.

And as I stand there listening to Kara talking passionately about her job and her articles and her plans, I think there could be no one better to be in a fake relationship with.


	6. Day 1: Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding celebrations begin... and shenanigans ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys!  
> Sorry, this is a day late, but to make up for it, here's a longer chapter than usual.  
> Without further ado, enjoy!

The week of the wedding is upon us, and we are all bracing ourselves for the upcoming events.

Mon-El, Lena, Jack and I are all driving up together to my cousin’s childhood home –The Kent Farm– in Smallville, Kansas; where the wedding of the year is taking place. The bride and groom’s family and members of the bridal party –both of with I’m part of– have been invited to start the celebration earlier. Since it’s a bit of a drive for everyone to get there, they’ve decided to make it a week-long experience, with fun family games, cocktails, and entertainment –and the rehearsal dinner– before the big day arrives.

It’s just my luck that I’m related to Clark. Not only do I generally hate these things, but this means that I have to pretend with Mon-El for a whole week, not just one evening. I am getting anxious that we are going to be caught up in our lies, despite all the practicing we’ve been getting done.

For the last month, we’ve been going out on a lot ‘dates’, so that we could have some genuine stories to tell people. You know, the best lies always stem from the truth. We’ve been having a great time, the dates have been fun and enjoyable; besides, Mon-El has always been really good company. I love spending time with him. To top it all off, he’s taken me to all the places I’ve always meant to visit but never found the time to go. We’ve visited National City Art Gallery, where we contemplated the magnificent _‘Starry Night’_ , and also, we went hiking in the woods surrounding the town, where we did some rock-climbing and kayaking.

I can’t remember another time period in my life that I’d had so much fun.

Not to mention all the double –and triple– dates we’ve been going with _his_ sister and _my_ sister. Since that first Saturday where we went karaoking with Alex and Maggie, it’s become sort of tradition for the four of us. I never would’ve thought Mon-El Gand actually has an amazing singing voice. He just never stops surprising me.

And then, we have Lena and Jack.

Lena is the only one who knows about our agreement, and since she doesn’t keep secrets from Jack, he’s the only other person to know the truth. So, when he suggested both of us ‘couples’ going out for drinks –to _practice_ –, we couldn’t say no. And… it was refreshingly diverting. Even though Lena still doesn’t agree with our charade, she’s agreed to help us, and she has. Having someone who knows the truth makes pretending easier for me, it takes the pressure off. I instantly become more affectionate toward Mon-El when they're around. Every time we’re around each other, I almost forget it’s not real… it seems as though we’re back in high-school, just a bunch of seventeen-year-olds hanging out.

All in all, I’m really starting to enjoy this… too bad it’s about to end.

Lucy –therefore, Lois– has been very suspicious about the true nature of our relationship. I overhead her while we were at a dress fitting, telling her older sister that she finds it too convenient that I suddenly got a boyfriend in time for her wedding.

Lois has been calling me almost daily with updates on the wedding. Naturally, every single conversation ends with a grilling about my relationship with Mon-El: _How did it happen? When was your last date, and what did you do? Where did you guys go? What did you talk about?_ I know she probably means well, and her questions most likely come from her journalistic curiosity. But I also know every word I utter in front of her will end up on Lucy’s ears. Who will undoubtedly tell her husband –which, whether that’s a bad thing or a good thing, I have yet to determine. The questions are never-ending, and I try to answer them as evenly as I can.

However, there is another issue: our living arrangements. There was this one time, Lois had showed up unannounced at the loft with some wedding related emergency, just to see Mon-El putting away the extra bedding he uses to sleep on the couch back inside the cabinet. She asked me if we were having problems or if we had argued, thankfully we managed to convince her it was Eve who’d crashed at our place after a night of heavy drinking. After that incident, Mon-El moved his stuff to my bedroom, just in case someone went snooping or asking too many questions. Regardless, I am sure we’ll have everyone keeping a close eye on us during this wedding, that’s why we’ve decided it’d be best if we shared the room for this week.

We are pulling up to the nearby hotel were Jack and Lena will be staying in, when she turns and gives me a pointed look. “I have to say, I'm looking forward to see how this week plays out," she states with a grin. “It's always fun watching you try to flirt.”

Everyone laughs at my expense. Nonetheless, Mon-El comes to my defense. “Oh, come on! Don’t be too hard on her,” he chuckles lightly. “She’s come such a long way under my expert hands.”

I smile and blush, a little bit stunned by his offhanded compliment.

“Kara, you should be thankful you have Mon-El this week or you would have been on the receiving end of cheesy pick-up lines and drunk indecent proposals," Jack says.

He’s right. I hadn't thought about that. There are added benefits of having Mon-El as my date this week. At least, I won't have to put up with creepy guys trying to hit on me or getting too handsy.

As we help them unload their luggage, Jack retells us some of his former fraternity brothers epic failures with women. Creepy is the only word I could think of to describe them. It seems there are people who are even worse at dating than I. His mindless chatter helps me relax and reduce my anxiety over this hellish wedding.

Once Jack and Lena are checked-in to their hotel room, we make our way back to Mon-El’s car and head to my uncle’s state. Since I’m a member of Clark’s direct family, Mon-El and I get the privilege of staying at their house. The hotel is only 15 minutes away, so Lena and Jack will make their way later for the welcome party.

When we cross the front gate with the huge sign that reads ‘Kent Farm’, I feel completely unprepared for this. Mon-El seems to sense my mood because he immediately takes my hand in his and reassures me. “You can do this, Kara. You’re a lot better at it than you think,” he says and I gave him an incredulous look. He must be joking. I may have improved –true, thank to him– but I’m still pretty bad at the whole ‘dating’ thing. He just lets out a small chuckle and gives my hand a reaffirming tug. “Don’t worry… you have _me_.”

I turn to face him and give him a thankful smile in return. It still amazes me sometimes how well he knows me. How he senses my worries even before I do, and knows exactly what to say to calm me down. “Yes, I have you.”

The Kent Farm is a huge country state inherited by Uncle Jonathan. It’s been on the Kent family for generations. I haven’t been here in years, and just driving by the seeming endless cornfields makes me realize how much I’ve missed it. Some of my best childhood memories happened in this place. We’d spend our entire summers running through the fields, fishing in the lake, playing catch with Krypto, and riding the horses with my sister and cousin.

As soon as we pull up to the area reserved for parking, Mon-El disengages the engine and moves around to open the door for me –before you ask: yes, I’m starting to get used to it. I take his proffered hand and get out of the vehicle, turning to look back to the house where I’d spent so many happy times while growing up. Mon-El grabs our bags from the trunk and closes it before setting my suitcase and his duffel bag both in one hand, so he can have the other free to hold. 

Mon-El interlinks his fingers through mine as we walk to the doorway and ascend the porch stairs. This time, I accept his hand readily. I no longer try to pull away from his touch. He pulls me closer and I relish in the conform he provides. “You'll be fine, Kara. Everyone is here for Clark and Lois, they won’t even notice us… you’ll see,” he whispers in my ear. “Just breathe.”

I shrug my shoulders because I know that won't be the case. My entire family is so nosy, and I know everyone will be itching to know how I _finally_ attained an actual flesh-and-bone boyfriend. I love them to death, truly I do; but they have no boundaries when it comes to meddling in other people’s business –especially mine.

I leave out an exaggerated exhale and step to knock on the wooden front door.

Aunt Martha greets us warmly and ushers us in. She explains that everyone is in their rooms already getting ready for the reception tonight. She guides us to one of the guest rooms, the one I usually stayed on when I was a kid, and tells us to head down when we’re ready.

Mon-El enters behind me, and places our bags on the tiny settee in the corner. He’s looking around the small cozy room, when his eyes stop on the narrow queen-size bed that occupies a third of the reduced space.

“I guess I’ll take the floor, then,” Mon-El states with that impish grin of his, before he starts moving around in circles searching for something, apparently. “Do you think there’s an extra duvet on the closet?”

I frown disgruntled. I won’t have him sleeping on the cold floor. He must be suffering from a sore back already from the weeks spent on our couch. It’s silly, we’re not fifteen anymore. “That’s stupid! You can sleep with me,” I exclaim. “The bed should be big enough for the both of us,” I reply.

Mon-El raises his eyebrows incredulously at my decision. True, we agreed to share a room, not a bed... but said bed looks big enough for two people, although it won’t allow for much room between us. It’s going to be a snug fit. “Are you sure?” he asks hesitantly. “Because if you’re not comfortable, I’ll just- I’ll take the floor… seriously, I don’t mind.”

“I’m positive! And you don’t even have to worry about me jumping your bones in the middle of night, you’re not _that_ attractive,” I jest and Mon-El laughs.

“So, you think I’m attractive?” he wiggles his eyebrows and I blush.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” I reply all flustered. Mon-El just smirks suggestively and I huff before continuing. “Look, do you want to share the bed or not? Bear in mind that someone is bound to come in to check on us. We’d better be prepared for the worst.”

“Fine, then,” he finally agrees. “But I have to warn you, though. I tend to hug the covers.”

I smile and shake my head as I begin to unpack some of the essentials, while Mon-El takes his clothes out of his duffel bag and hangs them in the closet.

We’ve arrived later than the rest of the family. I had to write an urgent last-minute-news article at work this morning, and Snapper wouldn’t let me leave until I’d turn it in. This means everyone else is already getting drunk at the welcome reception taking place outside.

Mon-El and I change into more suitable attires. I pull on a green skater dress that Lena had me buy, while Mon-El puts on a crisp white shirt with a matching green tie that compliments my dress, and a navy blazer –I love it when he wears that color, it brings out his dark blue eyes. Since he wore it on our ‘first date’, I think navy is rapidly becoming my favorite color on him. After arranging my curls to hang prettily on my shoulder and a quick dash of mascara over my eyelashes, we are ready to join the party outside.

I take Mon-El’s hand for strength, and he immediately laces his fingers in mine. I follow close behind him as he guides us through the corridor. Together, we head downstairs where everyone is waiting.

It’s show time!

* * *

 

We run into my uncle Jonathan in the kitchen, on our way out to the backyard. He looks utterly uncomfortable wearing a black suit with a red tie. I bet Aunt Martha had him discard his plaid flannel shirts, worn-out jeans and sturdy boots, and actually dress up for the evening. I can’t help but chuckle at his obvious discomfort. The poor man looks as miserable as a fish out of the water. “I take it you’re not enjoying the party,” I say sarcastically folding my arms across my chest.

He looks up and grimaces as if in pain. “If I don’t ever have to hear the words flower arrangement or string quartet again, it’ll be a day too soon,” he grumbles, causing both Mon-El and I to laugh out loud.

Uncle Jonathan has never been comfortable with this sort of thing. He’s a farm boy at heart –always has and always will be–, so I know he must be finding it hard to adjust to this much pompousness and extravagance.

However, knowing Lois is a typical city-girl, I know this wedding couldn’t have gone any other way.

I have always liked Uncle Jonathan. He’s simple and down to Earth, a hardworking stubborn man who took care of his family without any help. And we have a lot in common, we’re uncomfortable in this kind of situations, preferring our own company to socializing.

Uncle Jonathan straightens up against the wall as we approach. “So, you finally managed to get yourself a boyfriend, darling?” he asks gesturing vaguely towards Mon-El. “We might have to change ‘Murder Mystery’ game night, and try to solve _that_ mystery instead.”

It’s my turn to grimace, now. For Rao’s sake, seriously? Is it really _that_ much of a shocker that I have a date? I’m about to say so, however, Mon-El wastes no time jumping into my defense.

“What’s there to figure out?” he says pulling me into his side and kissing the top of my head. “Kara is beautiful and funny and loyal. She’s honest to a fault and she fights for those she cares for… she’s so special. I’m the luckiest guy in the world that she gave me –us– a chance.”

I’m gobsmacked for a moment before I remember to smile at his words. He is so reliably good at this I almost forget it’s all for show. Like always, he’s managed to say the right thing I needed to hear, I only wish I found it as easy. Anyhow, whether they’re truthful or not, his words lift my spirits, so I give him a peck on the cheek in thanks.

“I guess congratulations are in order, then!” he says and shakes Mon-El hand, before turning and pointing a finger at me. “Don’t let this one go, Kara Bear.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I reply as convincingly as I can.

He tells us to go ahead and that he’ll be out in a minute. Mon-El and I make our way to the tables –hands still linked between us– before Lois is upon us in a flash. She looks so excited, and perhaps a little bit tipsy. She pulls me into a tight hug and declares loudly for everyone to hear: “Look who finally decided to show up, it’s the new happy couple.”

I hold on to Mon-El’s hand ever harder as she pulls from me and gives us a warm smile. Her announcement has alerted many people to our arrival and I can feel their eyes watching us. Instinctively, I snuggle into Mon-El’s side to try and hide away from their stares. Mon-El drops my hand, and instead, he puts his arm around my waist securely, as if to shield me. “It’s so good to see you again, Lois. Everything looks amazing,” Mon-El replies trying to distract her and the curious guests from our presence. “I must say your color scheme is flawless.”

It works perfectly. Lois gets excited about the compliment and turns her attention solely on Mon-El. “Oh, I’m glad to hear you think so!” she exclaims animatedly. “It means a lot, especially coming from a professional artist opinion.”

Mon-El chuckles and nods his head, and engages her in a conversation about her inspiration behind the color choice and decorations. I stand firmly tucked in beside him trying to look like a loving girlfriend, when my cousin, Clark, decides to make an appearance.

“Hi, there, cuz!” he greets happily, coming up behind Lois and wrapping his arms around her waist. It’s clear by the look on their faces when they gaze at each other, that they believe they’re the luckiest people alive to have found one another. Lois leans back into his embrace without hesitation and gives him a soft kiss on the lips as greeting. I can’t help but envy how easy the whole PDA thing comes to them. They don’t need to plan it, or fake it, or practice it… they are simply and disgustingly in love.

“Hi, Clark!” I say. “Again, congratulations on the wedding!”

Mon-El steps forward a bit, releasing my waist for just a second in order to shake Clark’s hand. “I wish you both a very happy marriage,” Mon-El states sincerely.

“Thank you!” Clark and Lois say at the same time. It’s almost vomit-inducing how in-sync they are, they’re like a Hollywood movie perfect couple.

We chat for a few moments more with Lois making a few more inquiries about my relationship with Mon-El. Which I’m letting Mon-El handle for the time being, and just stay silent by his side. I enjoy not having to lie for now, besides he’s much better at convincing other people than I am. Aunt Martha calls the bride and groom, saying she wants to take a picture, and Clark excuses themselves before removing to where his mother is standing.

“Enjoy the party!” Lois declares as she departs next to my cousin.

Nevertheless, seeing Clark and Lois together has shown me how natural and effortless it should be. I don't know how to compete with that. It is only _now_ that I begin to realize how hard this whole thing will be for me to pull off. Mon-El senses my tension and gives me another reassuring squeeze, tugging me even closer to his side. “Relax, you’re doing just fine,” he whispers in my ear.

I try to believe him and start to calm down, but just as I do my next –and biggest– test comes up.

My parents are fast approaching.

Alex said she'd be here by tomorrow with Maggie on tow.

Once they stand before us, they give Mon-El and me a warm hug, asking how was our journey. So far, I’ve avoided facing them by coming up with some lame excuse to every dinner invitations they’ve given, I’ve tried to keep Mon-El and my parents away from each other for as long as possible, but now it’s time to face the music. I didn’t want them together in the same room before now because my parents are the biggest threat to this charade; they’re the ones who know me best. If anyone can call me out on my lie, is Eliza and Jeremiah Danvers.

Pleasantries and small talk exchanged, my palms begin to get sweaty with nerves when my dad decides to bring up the elephant in the room. “I must say… It’s good to see Kara looking so happy, here,” he says with a loving smile. “I have to wonder, though, son. How did you my hermit of a daughter to agree to go out with you?”

 _Seriously, Dad? You too?_ I roll my eyes in annoyance. Ugh, why does _everyone_ keep asking that? It wasn’t _that_ bad, honestly. It’s just- I’ve had a different set of priorities for the last few years; I wanted to get ahead on my career, and only that mattered. A relationship wasn’t something I was actively seeking –and I still don’t. If I’d wanted, I would’ve have gotten a boyfriend anytime.

“Easy… I cooked her breakfast,” Mon-El replies with a cheeky grin.

Everyone chuckles. They’re all well aware of my love for food.

Mon-El then gazes down at me, with what can only be described as a loving look etched on his face. It almost has me for a second, only I know it is fake. I try my best to return the heart-eyes look to him. I must be successful because my mom clutches her hand to her chest and sighs dreamily. She seems genuinely happy for me and is relieved that she finally gets to see me like this. Both of them do. It hits me again how much I hate lying to my parents about this. I don’t know how I’m gonna tell them the truth after this is over, it’ll break their hearts.

“Well, you know me…” I start, following on the joke. “The ability to cook is the number one quality I look for in a man.”

Another round of laughter comes forth and I relax a little bit more.

“Oh! Do you remember that time you tried to bake cupcakes for Alex’s birthday, to follow your tradition? You forgot the baking powder and overcooked them beyond salvation!” Mom reminds us of my most memorable kitchen fail. “They were burned so badly, and tasted so awful. Poor Alex, she ate them all the same because she didn’t want to hurt your feelings!”

To my increasing annoyance, everyone roars in laughter. I tried really hard with those cupcakes, it was the thought that counted in any way. Besides, since I gave my sister food-poisoning, I haven’t baked her birthday cupcakes ever again. I just buy them from the Noonan’s Bakery.

“Well, then,” Mon-El replies pulling me close. “I’ll just have to live to fulfill your every culinary need until the end of time.”

I smile up at him and he bends down to place a tender peck on my lips. I try not to look too startled by the fact he has just kissed me for the first time, and instead try to make it seem as though this action is an everyday occurrence.

“I’m glad we already know you so well, Mon-El,” my dad adds. “I won’t even have to give you the mandatory shovel talk. I’m sure you won’t ever hurt her. You both deserver each other, son.”

The look of disbelief in Mon-El’s features must mirror my own. I can’t believe my father has finally declared a guy as good enough for his daughter. “Sir, I- I’m at a loss for words,” Mon-El replies, clearly shaken by my dad’s statement. “I appreciate your blessing, Mr. Danvers… I wouldn’t dare dream of ever hurting Kara, I only ever want to make her happy.”

_What is happening?_

“Mon-El, son, you have never called me Mr. Danvers a day in your life. Please, don't start now… we’re family!" Dad corrects him. “I know you’ll take good care of her.”

I go red with embarrassment at my dad's comment. Fake relationship or not, it’s never easy to hear your father considering your boyfriend as family –as a son. Mon-El seems unfazed and winks at me tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “She doesn’t need me… she can take pretty good care of herself,” he replies sincerely before turning his attention back to Dad. “Besides, I’ve seen her angry plenty of times, and I’d never want to be on the receiving end of her ire.”

I laugh and relax again after Mon-El says this. He truly does know me, and he handles people so well. I see my dad give us an approving look and I try not to look ashamed as the guilt for lying to him washes over me.

This is the first time I have ever lied to him. I just hope it’s worth it in the end.

* * *

 

After my parents leave to head back to their table, we are swarmed by family members and acquaintances, all asking us about the state of our relationship.  The same questions are asked over and over again.

Mon-El is well known amongst my family as our two families have always been quite close. Everyone echoes his mother's sentiments about how nice it would be for our two families to be finally joined together. All this attention makes me feel uncomfortable. I have never been good at small talk or liked having all the attention on me. I let Mon-El do most of the talking, since he’s so good at it. He repeats the same answers to every query without exhaustion, as the conveyer belt of well-wishers continues; every gets the same amount of patience and enthusiasm from him.

The whole time we hardly break apart. He is always touching me; his hand on the small of my back or wrapped around my waist, a gentle kiss on the top of my head or on my cheek, brushing strands of hair off my face and pushing them behind my ears. I can tell by the looks we are being given that he is being very convincing. The women look at me in awe and jealousy over my handsome and doting boyfriend.

It helps that Mon-El is so naturally charming and instantly gets on with everyone. He jokes about his life as an artist or how he doesn't understand brides’ obsessions in having the perfect wedding: “I thought the day is made perfect by the fact that you’re marrying the person you love, nothing else matters… no need to turn into a Bridezilla.” Every women _ohs_ and _aws_ at his sweet comment while every male laughs in agreement. Within an hour he has nearly everyone in the room wrapped around his charming little finger, and we have unwillingly become the center of attention, once again.

This does not go unnoticed by Lois, who’s standing next to her pregnant sister and throwing evil glares at us, as yet more people come up to congratulate us. She must’ve overheard Mon-El’s bridezilla remark. _Oh, oh_. I think about going to apologize to her. I don't want all of this attention and she is more than welcome to have it. It was never my intention to steal her thunder. It’s her wedding, after all. But then, I remember that she was the one that made a big deal about our arrival and I lose whatever sympathy I had left.

Clark eventually redirects her focus to the many other guests, and even though I’ve gotten rid of Lois and Lucy’s angry stares, they have been replaced by James’s steely glare.

I curse the gods of bad luck that James is Clark's best friend and best man.

I imagine Clark informed him that I would be coming here with Mon-El. However, the way he’s staring at us makes it clear he’s not thrilled at seeing us together, at all. He spends most the evening by his wife’s side, receiving his fair share of congratulations on the pregnancy. They look happy with Lucy’s pregnant glow and James placing a protective hand on her baby bump. That doesn’t change the fact that he spends a ridiculous amount of time watching Mon-El and me. Now that I think of it, this must be the first time he has seen me with another man in the six years since he dumped me. Asshole. He probably thought he still had some sort of hold on me, because I never dated –which I guess was sort of true, but he doesn’t need to know that. _Ha_ , the joke’s on him, because I now know I still have the same ability to unnerve him.

This encourages me to step up my game with Mon-El.

I want James to suffer at least a small part of what he made me suffer all those years ago. I want to show him that he means _nothing_ to me. That I have moved on.

This means I spend my time laughing loudly at Mon-El's jokes and stroking his arm as I listen to him talk. I surprise myself at how easy I find it now. It is this extra motivation that causes me to sit next to Mon-El on one of the red loveseats placed on a corner for a more intimate setting, I tuck myself into his side with my head resting on his shoulder.

Mon-El is sitting talking to J’onn J’onzz, the man in charge of Legal Advice at the Daily Planet and CatCo Magazine. He owns one of the biggest law firms in the world.  They are eagerly discussing each other’s work. Apparently, he’s also a huge art aficionado.

“So, what type of paintings do you do?” J’onn asks him.

“I’m more of a traditional sort of painter,” Mon-El explains with a gleam in his eye as he talks about something he’s truly passionate about. “I like to paint things and scenes that capture my attention in everyday life. You know? To make them come alive once again through a canvas. A breathtaking sunset in the sky, joyful children flying a kite at the park, an old sad lady sitting by herself on a bench as if she’s waiting for someone who’ll never come. I like the connection it creates with other human beings and nature itself.”

“Finally, someone that agrees with me. I find your view to be quite refreshing, young man,” J’onn nods his head. “I’ve been searching for artwork to decorate our offices around the country, but all my interior design team has come up with are obscure modern pieces that bring no warmth or humanity to the place. I don’t have psychic powers to get inside the artist’s mind and understand what the hell he meant with that big black splash in the middle of all that red. If I see a painting of a ball, I wanna know it’s just a ball.”

Mon-El laughs at his description and I find myself joining the gentlemen in their mirth. “I know what you mean, Mr. J’onzz,” Mon-El says and I can’t help myself staring at him. It’s fascinating watching Mon-El talk about art. He comes alive with every word. “I believe the problem with most modern art is that it requires a long explanation next to it for people to be able to grasp the concept. Good art shouldn’t need any of that, it’s all about what feelings it invokes in the observer. Whoever is watching should come up with their own interpretation from the way the painting made them feel or what it made them think of. It’s about the admirer, not the artist.”

J’onn nods his head enthusiastically and they carry on talking about Mon-El's paintings, and good examples of ‘actual’ art and what it means to them. I just sit there listening to the raspy velvety tones of Mon-El's voice. I swear I could spend the rest of my life sitting here and listening to him talk about art. It’s evident that this is his true passion, and the way he talks about it would make even the most disinterested people become interested in the subject. His enthusiasm is so engaging, I feel myself getting dragged into it as well.

Hearing his voice, with his warm presence beside, soothes me. I let myself forget about all the lies and what I have to endure this week, and just allow myself to feel content for once.

Eventually, the conversation with J’onn winds down and he seems pretty adamant about seeing some of Mon-El's work, since he’s very interested in maybe buying some. This makes me smile to myself. Maybe something good will come out of my dragging Mon-El into this mess; I’d be so happy if he managed to sell his paintings. He more than deserves it.

I kiss his cheek in encouragement and get up, telling Mon-El that I am going to get us some more drinks. He nods in thanks, while he exchanges business cards with J’onn. I make my way to the bar and order two more glasses of champagne. I lean against the counter, taking the weight off my aching feet; it's been a long night and these high-heels don’t agree with me. I can't wait to get back to our room and get some rest.

Just as the bartender brings over two flutes full of champagne, the last person I want to see sidles up beside me, almost making me spill the drinks. “It’s quite the show you’re putting on tonight, don’t you think?” James utters with a sneer.

I turn to face him taking a sip of my champagne to calm my fury. “I don’t know what you mean,” I feign ignorance and take a larger sip off the glass in my hand.

“Oh, please,” he chortles. “That guy is draping all over you like a koala bear, when you wouldn’t even let me hold your hand in public while we were going out.”

I narrow my eyes at him. That is a bit of an exaggeration and, anyways, it’s none of his business. He doesn’t get the right to be angry, I’m the only one who gets to be angry here.  Besides, after everything else that has gone on tonight, I really can't be bothered dealing with any lingering jealousies he may have.

“That’s because he’s not _you_ ,” I spite at him. “I never felt the urge to do any of that with you… I think my subconscious already knew you weren’t worth it. Unlike you, Mon-El treats me with love and respect; he’s earned to be shown affection in public.”

I can see the anger brewing in his eyes at my declaration. I don't even know where that came from, I normally cannot convey my feelings so eloquently. “I thought you were smarter than this, it’s obvious he’s just using you!” I bite my tongue not to respond at his insinuation, Mon-El would never date me –or anyone– for their money. Plus, if anyone is using someone in this situation, it’s the other way around. I ignore James malice and fist my hands to contain my ire. He laughs maliciously before continuing with his rant. “Everyone knows he’s a loser, stuck in a dead-end career, that can’t even afford his rent. It’s no secret he’s back crashing with you and Lena. I mean… _pfft_ , what a catch!”

An uncontrollable rage surges over me and I am about to punch him in the face, I can practically feel the bones of his nose breaking under my fist, when I feel a pair of warm arms circle and steady me. I twist around to see Mon-El looking worriedly between James and me. “Kara, is everything alright? You seemed upset.”

I give Mon-El a smile, trying to reassure him that I’m fine, before turning back to glower at James. Rao, I’m so pissed at him. I can't believe what he’s just suggested. Even if this relationship was real –if we were real–, it would _never_ be because of money. If Mon-El wanted, he’d be richer than both of us combined; he refused to take over his family company. He’s got integrity, something I’m starting to see James severely lacks. It really doesn’t matter, James doesn’t know Mon-El like I do. After our conversation a few weeks ago, I know Mon-El wants to be able to provide for his family. He’d be a better husband than James will ever be. He’s already a better man than James will _ever_ be.

I feel like I have to prove something to James. One: That his words don’t affect me, not anymore. And two: That it’s of no concern to him what or who I do. So, instead of answering Mon-El's question or hitting James, I pull Mon-El down to my level and kiss him fully on the lips.

We haven't discussed doing this. Tiny pecks on the lips, sure. But we never agreed on full-on heavy kissing… and I don't know how he will react. That’s rapidly pushed out of my mind when he locks his hand in the nape of my neck, the other pulling me close by the waist, and I can feel him kissing me back just as hard.

It's a searing kiss. I taste the fruity flavor of champagne on his lips, and I get a little lost in the warmth and strength he brings to it, just like to every other thing he does. I’m so caught up on the kiss that, without noticing what I’m doing, I poke my tongue out and run it along his bottom lip, begging him for entrance. Mon-El doesn't hesitate, moving his hand up my spine and tangling his fingers in my hair; he tips my head back to deepen the kiss and I feel my body melt into his. He opens his mouth for me and gently pulls my tongue into his mouth, stroking it with his own.

 _Wow_!

A warm feeling begins to spread from the center of my chest and ripples throughout my whole body. My veins are on fire. My nerve-endings are ignited. I feel like I’m floating on the clouds.

I forget that there are people watching us.

Eventually the kiss slows, after what feels like an eternity, when we’re both running out of breath. Mon-El ends it with a soft peck on my nose, still holding my head in his hands and resting our foreheads together. I look up at him timidly, I can my face flush. This kiss has confused me. _What the hell was that_?

I notice a strange look cross Mon-El’s face, however, I am too muddled to figure out what it means. I can hear James stomp away angrily, but I don't care anymore. I don't understand what just happened. Maybe it was the champagne or the desire to defend Mon-El against James’s unfair accusations or the fact it has been a while since I have been kissed so thoroughly, but--

_Why did that kiss feel so good?_


	7. Day 2: Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara and Mon-El must deal with the aftermath of that kiss... and the feelings that came with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovely readers!  
> First, I have a few things to say:  
> 1) You have no idea how much your support means to me. I never expected people would enjoy this fic so much, I am floored by the response it's gotten... So thank you!!! Every comment and kudos have meant the world to me. You are all amazing! (If I could I'd hug each and everyone of you).  
> 2) I am guessing everybody is feeling a bit down after that last episode, so I'm just gonna say now... Don't worry. They will get their happy ending sooner rather than later, at least in this story. ;) Just be patient!  
> 3) We get to hear both Kara's and Mon's POVs in this chapter. I thought it was important to delve into their inner thoughts after that mindblowing kiss. The change in POV is marked by the asterisks.  
> 4) We also get some MonWinn brotp. ;)  
> 5) My laptop just died on me. So, I am uploading this from my tablet. I'm sorry if the formatting is weird or something... I'll try to get it fixed on time for the next chapter on Saturday. 
> 
> So... With that being said, enjoy!

Next morning, I am woken by the feeling of movement next to me and the sudden loss of warmth. I groan loudly and hear Mon-El’s light chuckle to my left. “Go back to sleep, Kara,” he whispers. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

I pry my eyes open and see ‘6:00 am’ blinking back at me on the digital alarm clock. The other side of the bed is now empty and cold and I curse Mon-El Gand for waking me up at the crack of dawn. I don’t think twice before taking his advice and turning to the other side. I hug his pillow to me in an attempt to regain some of the warmth he took with him. I close my eyes tightly and try to go back to sleep, but it’s futile.

I guess I’m up.

I thought since Mon-El is an artist that he would be a sleep-in-late kind of guy, but surprisingly, he’s always up before me and making breakfast by the time I leave my bed in the mornings.

Mm, thinking about Mon-El’s cooking has opened up my appetite. I could do with some hash browns right about now. Just thinking about his food has my stomach growling in protest.

Not even ten minutes later, as I’m thinking of how I can bribe my pseudo-boyfriend into making me the breakfast I crave, I hear him open the door and enter our bedroom fully dressed and with a hand-towel drying his dark wet tresses.

“Good morning, sunshine!” he says chirpily as he hangs the used towel on the back of a nearby chair. “I have to admit, it was nice sleeping on a real bed for a change. I don’t remember the last time I slept so well.”

I turn to scowl at him. I don’t understand how he can be able to function normally at six in the morning. “It would’ve been a good morning if I had slept in all I wanted,” I grumble and he just smirks at my grumpiness. “We’re supposed to be on vacation this week –as much as this wedding can be considered as time off. Why are you up so early?”

“Life’s too short to waste it staying in bed,” he replies. It’s not like I enjoy spending all day in bed, either, but a few extra minutes never hurt anyone. Mon-El sees my irritated expression and laughs. “I’ll get out of your hair, now. I’m just gonna go over to the lake and sketch a bit, in case you need me.”

He grabs a pad and graphite pencil, and turns to leave. I immediately become more alert and move up to a sitting position. “Hey!” I call out to him, making him stop and do a one-eighty. “Since you woke me up, you’re making me breakfast.” I demand while I angrily pull the covers off my body.

Mon-El grins that big happy grin of his and tells me he’ll get started right away, and that I should hop in the shower and change while he’s at it. I curse him again once he has left the room.

No one should be capable of being that cheery this early in the morning.

* * *

 

Half-an-hour later, I find Mon-El in the small cozy kitchen as he takes the coffee pot out of the machine. He’s made me some bacon and eggs… and hash browns. _Yes!_ I sit down and watch Mon-El use all the kitchen gadgets so effortlessly. It’s quite entertaining –and kinda hot–; I feel like I’m watching a live episode of Master Chef. I swear if he ever decided to quit painting, he should definitely consider cooking as a back-up career.

Mon-El places a plateful in front of each of us, and we both wordlessly tuck into our meal. My taste buds immediately come alive with the juicy taste of bacon and the crunchy feel of the hash browns as they dissolve inside my mouth. I can’t help but moan loudly… it’s _that_ good. Mon-El looks a bit flustered after my involuntary moaning, however, he quickly shakes it off and chuckles at my embarrassment. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

I hum in agreement and go back to inhaling my breakfast of the gods. Mon-El may have his many faults –the prime example at the moment being his habit of waking up at breaking dawn– but his cooking is most definitely not one of them. I continue to savor my delicious breakfast before deciding to bring up the elephant in the room. “Did you think we did well last night?” I ask, genuinely curious for his opinion.

Mon-El puts his fork down and shallows the remains of his eggs before answering. “I think it went great,” he replies. “I mean, your family loves me… and you really pulled off the loving girlfriend at the end.”

I blush remembering our kiss last night. It was good – _so_ good–, that much I can admit. But I am still mixed up about how it made me feel. I don’t even know if I truly want to figure it out. “Yeah… about that kiss, though,” I start, avoiding Mon-El’s eyes as I try to say what I need to say. “I’m sorry about that, Mon. I- It was a mistake.”

“Do you regret it?” he asks with his brows furrowed in confusion.

“No… well, yes,” I blabber, feeling uncomfortable. “I did what I had to do to convince James, but it-- truth is, it threw me off a little. And I shouldn’t have done it. It was wrong of me… I apologize.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Kara. You didn’t do anything wrong…” Mon-El soothes me and, for reasons I can't quite pinpoint, he actually looks hurt. He scratches his chin awkwardly before asking me, “So, you didn't like it?”

“No, no… it was good. It was fine,” I reply reassuringly and his face slowly relaxes in relief while simultaneously grimaces in pain. “I just… I think maybe we should limit those kind of kisses. You know? They’re nice and all, but they’re also confusing… We don’t need anything blurring the lines between what’s real and what’s not.”

“No, yes…” he clears his throat. “I’m just glad we’re on the same page.”

Is that disappointment I see etched on his face? No, it couldn’t be.

Mon-El could have any woman he wanted, he would never want _me_. Nevertheless, I can't help but replay the kiss over and over in my head. The feeling of his supple lips moving against mine. The sweet taste of champagne on his tongue as it fought for entrance. The way his body felt against mine and his hands tangled in my hair.

My heart beats faster at the memory.

I didn’t want to do it. At least, I didn’t plan to. However, James’s inane accusations were grating on my nerves and getting under my skin. I just… reacted. I’ve always had a habit of acting before I think. I’m impulsive by default. But usually, later I can see clearly; only this time is later already and I still don't know what to make of it. I know why I did it: to prove something to James, to defend Mon-El against him. Yet, I am still unclear about the feelings that kiss have kindled in me. I have never thought about kissing Mon-El before. I mean, I have always seen him as a brother and the thought of kissing him I considered as bordering on incest. But… there’s no point in denying that I enjoyed the kiss. Actually, I wouldn't mind doing it again, and again, and again. _What does that even mean?_

Could I possibly see him as something more than a brother?

Ugh, stop. Maybe I am overthinking this. Maybe Mon-El is just a _really_ good kisser.

“We need some boundaries, then,” Mon-El continues, waking me up from my reverie. “How about this? Small pecks on the cheek and lips are fine… but anything deeper than that and we’re crossing the line.”

“Deal,” I smile at his negotiation tactic, already picturing the imaginary line in my mind... and taking a step over it. I refuse to give into the temptation of breaking the rules and crossing said line. No, not happening. The line shall not be crossed. This is Mon-El we’re talking about. “I am sorry, though. James was just being a major asshole and I wanted to shut him up.”

I don't bring up my conflicting thoughts about the kiss. He would probably think I am insane for even thinking them. Bringing it up will just make everything even more awkward than it already is. And we definitely don’t want _that_.

“It’s okay,” Mon-El responds. “I figured it had to be something like that.”

“Yeah,” I say. “We don't want things to get awkward.”

Mon-El nods his head in agreement and we move on to discussing the various other activities for this week. This afternoon the women are due a dress fitting, while the men will stay back to do some fishing at the lake. I’d chop off both my legs if it meant I didn’t have to go to the fitting and could stay with the guys to go fishing.

Before I know it, we’re bantering like always.

Feels nice, like things are back to normal. The kiss completely put behind us.

I am relieved we’ve had that discussion, and that Mon-El has been so reasonable with the whole thing. If we don't have any more kisses like last night’s, then I don't need to confront what they mean to me.

By the time we have finished breakfast it is still too early for most regular human beings to be up and running, so we both decide to head outside for some fresh air. We head out to the lake, Mon-El brings his sketch pad while I decide to go for a walk around the shore. I leave him by the edge of the pier, admiring the landscape, as he immediately begins drawing what's in front of him.

The lake is so peaceful at this time in the morning, no ripple on the water as the wildlife is only just beginning to wake up. I close my eyes listening to the birds sing and enjoying the soft breeze blowing in my hair. Maybe it’s because I am now here with Mon-El but I begin reminiscing about my many childhood memories of this place. I remember that summer Lena and Mon-El joined us in our yearly vacations here. I find the tree that Lena and I used to climb when Mon-El was attacking us with a water gun, and the fallen log Alex used to pretend was her pet horse –she was, and still is, secretly petrified of riding horses as she fell off one when she was seven years old.

I have never given much thought to having children or being a mother, but if I do someday, I hope they have an idyllic childhood like mine. Playing outdoors, making up imaginary stories, going on adventures...

And I hope they have _friends_ as amazing as mine.

***

Kara leaves me at the end of the pier as she goes off to relish on the delights and mysteries this lake holds. I sit on a vacant Adirondack chair and watch her hips sway as she walks away. I can see her visibly relax as soon as she makes contact with the sand beneath her feet. I can't help but notice how ethereal and beautiful she looks surrounded by nature.

Eventually, I break my hypnotized gaze on her and turn back to the sketchbook on my lap with a shake of my head. I shouldn't be having these thoughts about her. I don't know where the hell they come from, but they’re _wrong_. For the past month or so, we have gone on countless ‘dates’ and spent copious amounts of time in each other's company; and not once have I felt the way I did last night… the way she made me feel with that kiss.

I don’t even know how to begin to describe it. _Electric_. As if my body was absorbing her energy and synthesizing it through my veins. Her kiss seemed to lick a fire throughout my entire body, burning into my soul and leaving her mark behind.

Something _changed_ last night.

And I have no idea what… or what it all means.

Before last night, we’d never discussed actual kissing. I thought she’d never go for it. Kara is a very private person, she always holds her cards close to her chest. Besides, she’s been quite adamant about her aversion to public displays of affection. But last night… _she_ was the one that kissed me. She initiated that kiss. And then, she let me kiss her back. She opened herself up to me and let me in. I didn’t imagine it. At least, I hope I didn’t.

Because that kiss was the best I’d ever had.

I know she said it was only to shut James up, but I can't help but wonder if maybe there was something more.

I let out a heavy sigh as I try to push it off my mind. I mean, this is Kara we’re talking about. I have spent over twenty years of my life not having these thoughts about her. She’s always been like another sister to me, I can easily continue to have purely platonic feelings towards her. Right?

Just as I begin sketching a lonesome figure by the shore, my cell phone begins vibrating inside my jeans pocket. I put down my pencil with a frown and look at the caller ID. My frown turns upside down as I smile when I see the name flash up on the screen. _Winn Schott._

“Hey, buddy! What’s up?” I ask the person on the other end of the line.

“Nothing much,” my best friend replies. “I just got to the office and thought I’d give you a ring to find out how your little acting gig is going.”

I chuckle lightly as I lean back against the chair’s backrest. Much like Kara and Lena, Winn and I have been best friends forever. Ever since we both sat in the sandbox at recess on our first day at kindergarten, and promptly decided to make the biggest sandcastle possible, which we succeeded in building… until my sister stepped on it and destroyed it. The girls have always teased us about our ‘bromance’. He is the only person I have admitted the truth about Kara to. He hasn’t stopped giving me grief about it since then.

Winn is a computer tech genius. He works for a multibillion dollar software development company. The four of us went to primary school together, we used to call ourselves The Fantastic Four. Yeah, we were awesomely lame. We separated in high school because he moved to National City Tech, while the rest of us stayed back on Midvale High. However, I kept in touch with him through the years. And after we all moved to the city for college, we picked up our friendship right were we left off.

“Can’t complain. There’s tons of free food and an open bar,” I say trying to sound nonchalant and avoid speaking about _her_. “Oh, and I might have found someone interested in buying my paintings.”

“Hmm, yeah,” Winn retorts obviously not fooled by me. “Not buying it for a second. There’s something you’re not telling me… now, shoot!”

I nervously run a hand through my hair and chew on my bottom lip. He knows me too damn well. It’s useless trying to keep stuff from him. I should tell him about the kiss with Kara. Maybe he can help me figure out what it means.

But at the same time, I am scared voicing it out loud will make it all the more real.

“We kissed,” I finally admit.

“You and Kara?”

“Yep.”

“With tongue?”

“Yep.”

“Nice,” Winn replies, stretching the ‘i’ for like twenty-five seconds. “I totally saw that coming, by the way.”

“This is not funny, Winn,” I answer back, annoyed at my friend’s amusement over the situation. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I think you’re overreacting a bit,” he tries but fails to calm me down. “I mean, it was _one_ kiss, Mon. It was just that one kiss, right?”

“Yeah…” I answer unconvincingly.

“Well, then, just forget about it, mate!” Winn exclaims, as if that would magically solve the pickle I find myself in. “She probably just had a little bit too much to drink.”

“That’s not the problem, Winn!” I nearly shout in frustration.

“Then, what is?” he asks sounding genuinely concerned.

“The problem is that I don’t want to forget about it…” I eventually confess. “I want another one.”

Now that I have allowed myself to admit my feelings out loud I realize how true that statement is. The reason I can’t stop thinking about that kiss is because I want to do it again… and again, and again, and again.

We stay silent for a few moments, both shocked at my admission. “Oh, dude…” Winn begins to say only to be interrupted by my onslaught of blabbering mess.

“I know, I know. Believe me, I know…” I say, doing my best to try to express my muddled thoughts from the last twelve hours in a comprehensive way. “Something- Something was just _different_ this morning, I don’t know how to explain it-- as if a switch had been turned on overnight. You know? I woke up next to her, our faces just inches apart, and I just- I just watched her sleep for a few minutes. And I swear, Winn… I’d never seen anything or anyone so beautiful. I just wanted to stay there and watch her sleep forever.”

Yes, I am aware how creepy that sounds. Don't judge me! I was caught off guard by her beauty.

“Gee, Mon! This is Kara Danvers you’re talking about!” Winn says, mirroring my earlier thoughts on the subject. “You’ve been rolling around in the mud and tugging at her ponytail ever since you learned how to tie your shoelaces. I mean… come on, man, she’s like a sister to you.”

And don’t I know it!

I actually learned how to tie my shoelaces from her. We were five, and I’d tripped over them while we were playing tag at the Danvers’ backyard. Next thing I knew, she gently kneeled next to me on the grass, and after giving my scratched knee a tiny kiss to make it better, she proceeded to sing to me the Bunny song:

 _Bunny ears, Bunny ears, playing by a tree._  
_Criss-crossed the tree, trying to catch me._  
_Bunny ears, Bunny ears, jumped into the hole._  
_Popped out the other side beautiful and bold_.

“That’s why this is so wrong! It’s practically incest!” I exclaim with an indignation deep down I don’t truly feel. “Kissing her should’ve felt wrong, Winn… but it didn’t. _Why_? Why did it feel so good?”

“I don’t know, buddy,” Winn muses. “Have you told her any of this?”

“No,” I concede. “We discussed it this morning, and we’ve agreed not to do it again. That we'd be a crossing a line otherwise.”

I can almost see Winn disapprovingly shaking his head at me down the phone. “Aha, I see… Well, you could leave it all well enough alone-” he replies but I can tell that there’s more he wants to say.

“Or?” I ask, urging him to finish his sentence.

“Or… you could get your head out of your ass and actually make a move,” Winn adds.

I groan. “You’re not helping!”

“Look, I’m not saying you have to marry her. Maybe you guys just need to get it out of your systems, you know?”

“Actually, I don’t.”

“Have you ever heard of friends with benefits? Maybe you guys just need to scratch the itch and get it over with.”

That would never work. I don’t think I can ever do that. Kara is not just an itch to scratch.

“Yeah, no- Still not helpful,” I sigh in defeat. “I don’t even know how she feels. I can’t- And even if I ever did that, Lena would murder me.”

“Okay, look… the way I see it, you’re screwed either way,” Winn states and I roll my eyes at his unhelpfulness. “Whether you end up sleeping –the other kind of sleeping– with her, or not, your relationship will be inevitably changed. You will never go back to the way things were. You’ll either wonder forever where this could've gone, or you’ll regret having taken it further… whatever you do, things will never be the same again.”

I frown at the truth of his words. And I hate myself even more afterwards.

Winn’s right. Everything’s changed now. Whatever I’m feeling, whether I act on those feelings or not… Kara and I will not be the same. Our friendship will be basically over.

The mere thought of losing her pierces a hole through my heart.

“Remind me not to ask you for advice ever again,” I say. “You suck.”

Winn chuckles. “I’m serious, though. I know you, Mon. You’re too sensitive for your own good sometimes, and I don't want to have to hear you whining about it for the next two years.”

“Thanks for the completely useless advice,” I say frustrated that this conversation didn't help me at all. If anything, it made matters worse. If I felt torn before, now I feel torn, battered and discarded.

_What am I gonna do?_

“Enjoy the rest of the wedding,” Winn teases.

We say our goodbyes and I hang up the phone. I don't know why I thought Winn would be of any help. His advice has always been of no use when it comes to women –even Kara once warned me against taking Winn’s advice regarding this particular subject. I can see now the wisdom of her counsel.

I run my hand through my hair in utter frustration. Why did this have to get so complicated?

I go back to sketching and, for a little while, it takes my mind off the whole Kara dilemma.

* * *

 

I don’t how much time passes until I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder. I turn to see Kara going round to sit on the empty chair next to mine. We stay there for a while, just admiring the view. Without noticing, we’re suddenly holding hands. I can feel her warmth radiate through our interlinked fingers.

Gods, she’s mesmerizing. A few tendrils have escaped her ponytail and they rebelliously frame her face. Her blue eyes shine like comets in the sky. There is a small contented smile on her lips. I am at a loss for words to describe her.

I have never seen anyone so _stunning_.

My heart suddenly starts beating faster, like it’s fighting its way out from my ribcage. And in that moment, I realize that I am in so much trouble.

_I am falling for her._

I have known her my entire life, but all of the sudden I am made aware of all the amazing things about her, all the little details that make her _Kara_. All the things I already knew but never truly appreciated –until now. She is smart and loyal and adventurous… and absolutely beautiful.

She’s my friend but, now, that’s no longer enough. I want _more_.

However, I have no idea how she really feels. Up until this point, she has only ever seen me as a big brother and, besides, I'm pretty sure she still has unresolved lingering feelings for James. I don't want to scare her away with any unwanted or untimely declarations. It could make the remainder of this week very awkward.

So, even though my heart painfully disagrees, I make a decision. I promise myself that I won’t say or do anything unless her actions suggest otherwise. I won’t go _there_ unless I know she feels the same way about me.

She turns to face me and I beam back at her. I sit back just enjoying being near her, pushing all other thoughts from my mind.

For now… _just friends_ will have to do.


	8. Monday Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex arrives. Kara goes to the dress fitting. Mon-El goes fishing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everybody!  
> First of all, sorry this is a day late. As I told you, my laptop died and it only got repaired yesterday, so I didn't have as much time to write this chapter. But here it is, and I hope you like it!  
> Second, as the previous chapter, the change in POVs is marked by the asterisks.  
> Last but not least, thanks from the bottom of my heart for your amazing support! You are all awe and some! :)  
> Without further ado, enjoy!!!

Mon-El and I decide to spend the rest of the morning relaxing by the lake. It’s nice. I haven’t felt this peaceful and content in a very long time.

I don’t even mind his hand holding mine.

His touch has become natural by now. I no longer dread it, or try to push him away. I welcome his warmth and ignore the way it makes me feel, how amazing his skin feels against mine.

I notice his sketchpad. There’s an unfinished drawing on the last page. I ask him if he wants his hand back to finish it. He just laughs and gives my hand a gentle squeeze. He says there’s plenty of time to do that later.

We stay there, enjoying the view and the company, until it’s nearing lunch time.

“We should head back,” Mon-El says reluctantly as he softly caresses the back of my hand with his thumb.

I feel anchored by his side. I don’t want to move. I want to stay right where I am.

“I know we can’t stay all day,” I say pleadingly. “But let’s just stay here a little while longer, please.”

I glance at his perfectly sculpted profile to catch him smiling. “For how long?”

“’Til tomorrow,” I jest.

“Okay,” he easily agrees. “Woman of tomorrow.”

What must be an hour later, we don’t say a word as we both get up and walk in comfortable silence back to the house, our hands still tightly held together.

* * *

 

We are about a stone’s throw away from the doorway when I feel Mon-El’s hand being yanked from mine with a blunt force. I turn my head ready to yell at him when I notice my sister is clinging to his back and they’re laughing.

Alex Danvers may be a twenty-nine year old FBI Agent, but she can act like a girly teen whenever she wants to. “I’ve missed you, hot cakes!” she exclaims while hanging onto Mon-El like a spider-monkey.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Mon-El says and puts her down for a proper hug. He looks at me over her shoulder with an amused smirk on his face. “It hasn’t been the same without you, Agent Danvers. How’s Maggie?”

Sometimes I actually envy how close Alex is to Mon-El. They’re as thick as thieves. They continue to head towards the entrance without sparing me a second thought.

“She’s amazingly badass as usual,” she replies. “She’s on duty until tomorrow, that’s why she couldn’t come with me. But she’ll get here later this week.”

“Good,” Mon-El says. “You two can be on our team, then.”

“Oh, yes,” Alex exclaims. “We’re gonna destroy them.”

They high-five enthusiastically and turn around, waiting for me to catch up to them on the porch. Mon-El leaves my sister’s side and takes back my hand in his. I don’t know why I feel relieved at the gesture.

“You look great together, by the way,” Alex says after staring at us intently for one second, her eyes shining brightly with delight. “I’m just so happy for the both of you.”

“Aw, Alex, are you getting all mushy this early on?” Mon-El muses. “Save it for the wedding ceremony!”

“Shut up!” Alex playfully punches Mon-El on the arm. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do,” he replies with a smile. “And I’m happy you’re happy about this, Alex. I would never dare to date Kara without your blessing.”

Alex punches him once more, only harder this time, making him step in closer to me.

“Well, I am! I’m _really_ happy about this… I mean, it’s just all too exciting!” she explains. “Kara has always liked you. How could she not? She’s constantly bitching about you, but I knew it was just because she didn’t want to admit her true feelings for you.”

Mon-El throws me an amused look with his eyebrows arched. I furrow my brows in return and shake my head.

“Oh, really?” Mon-El smirks. “I didn’t know about that.”

I scowl at him but he just laughs. I then turn my attention to Alex. “I’m not always bitching about him!” I declare in my defense. “By the way, it’s nice to see you, too! I am your sister and I don’t even get a hello?”

Alex rolls her eyes at me. “Hi, Kara! I’ll get to you in a minute,” she says lifting up her index finger on my face. “Right now, I really want my brother-in-law to tell me all about his first meet with the parents.”

Mon-El chortles and wraps his free arm around her shoulders. “Always straight to the point, Alex. Come on, it’s lunch time. You can grill us later,” he replies as he walks us into the house.

I give him a grateful smile and follow. Having Alex here has made me nervous again, all of the sudden. Out of all the people in attendance, she is the most likely to put two and two together and figure out this is all a ruse. However, as I watch Mon-El chatting amicably with her, I remember how insanely good he is, and tell myself that everything will be fine.

* * *

 

Later today I have the dreaded final fittings for the bridesmaids’ dresses. I am not looking forward to spending a whole afternoon talking about necklines and skirt lengths. Especially not when that means I’ll be spending time with Lucy Lane in close quarters –a tiny changing room to be exact. To make matters worse, the men are all staying behind to go on a fishing trip in the lake. Uncle Jonathan has arranged for them all to go on a boat loaded with plenty of bait and beer. I find the whole thing extremely sexist. I have been fishing at this very lake since I was seven years old, I am better at it than half of the guys combined.

Besides, after the morning I spent with Mon-El by the pier, I couldn’t wait to go back. I would’ve loved to go on that boat trip and just feel the breeze, relax, and show the men how fishing is done. Now, as I wait for Lois, Lucy and Alex, I sit sulking on the porch swing, watching the men gather up to go to their expedition. I can hear J’onn telling them about the time he swam with sharks. I find it highly unbelievable that someone as serious and brooding as Mr. J’onzz would go swimming with a bunch of sharks.

As I sulk, James pulls a funny face and then winks at me. His actions just now confuse me beyond measure. What is he doing? James Olsen hasn’t winked at me in six years. Plus, he was so pissed off at me last night, so why is he acting like we’re friends again, all of a sudden? I shake my head to get rid of these thoughts. I don’t care why he’s doing whatever it is he’s doing. I’m not going to waste a minute more of my time analyzing his actions.

Mon-El, with his usual perfect timing, comes over to where I’m sitting and crouches in front of me placing a gentle hand on my knee. “Hey, light up, Sunshine!” he jokes, trying to cheer me up. “At least, you’ll get plenty of free champagne at the bridal store.”

My signature crinkle makes an appearance, making him chuckle as he tries to smooth it out with his thumb. I know he means well, but his attempt to brighten my mood is not going down well with me at the moment. I hate being forced into things I don’t like or that make me uncomfortable; and the worst part is, he won’t even be there to make it somewhat tolerable. “Yeah, right…” I huff and cross my arms petulantly, but Mon-El ignores my childish tantrum and just smiles.

“I promise I’ll do my best to make you proud and not to embarrass you with my lackluster fishing skills,” he says and moves to sit next to me on the bench, putting his arms around me in comfort. “I remember that summer your dad took us all fishing, you and Alex got the hang of it pretty quickly; but Lena and I couldn’t catch anything even if our lives depended on it. Jeremiah gave up pretty quickly when he realized I was more interested in drawing the fish than capturing them… and that Lena found the whole thing utterly disgusting.”

I fight the small smile that’s trying to loom on my face. He’s right. Still, I _really_ wanted to go. Sensing my persistent annoyance he kisses my cheek, before whispering in my ear. “I’ll make you a deal…”

This has peeked my interest. “What?”

“I’ll cook you breakfast every day this week, if you refrain from committing genocide during the dress fitting,” Mon-El says with an expectant look in his eyes.

The fight is long lost and I find my lips quirking up into a huge grin. It will take bribery for me not to strangle Lois and Lucy today, and what better way to win me over than with food. “Deal.”

Satisfied that he has cheered me up a bit, Mon-El pats my knee and jogs back to join the rest of the idiotic men. They all leave soon after, and Lois, along with her sister and my sister, finally make their way down the stairs. I sigh heavily before getting up.

I just want to get this over with.

* * *

 

We are greeted at the only bridal boutique in town by the owner and designer, a nice young woman by the name of Samantha Arias. Lois greets her enthusiastically and kisses her on both cheeks. I try and make myself invisible as I let them all ramble on.

Sam, as she asked me to call her, is not what I expect of a fashion designer. She is not over the top and flamboyant as many of them are. She looks normal with a kind face and long dark hair. Instantly, there is something I like about her. She seems like a simple down-to-Earth woman.

She greets us all warmly and hands us all a glass of champagne. Lucy refuses hers because of her pregnancy. After exchanging the mandatory pleasantries, she directs us to the changing area, where the dresses are hanging by the mirrors and waiting for us to try them on.

I gulp down my glass of champagne in one go for some liquid courage and prepare myself for what awaits me inside. The offending garment is even worse than I imagined. I don’t even know if that color exists within the spectrum –it’s somewhere between the color of mold and vomit– and it looks even worse under this light. The dress is full length and it’s got ruffles and sequins. I groan loudly before reluctantly pulling on the dress. Once it is on, I step outside so Sam can make the appropriate alterations.

Lois and Lucy both shriek when they see me in the dress and go on to discuss how flattering the dresses are. I try not to roll my eyes as they blabber on and tug at the top of my dress. Sam comes towards me with a full pincushion and begins pinning me in.

She sees my bored look and smiles warmly. “You look like you would rather be dangling above a pit of lava than be here,” she says.

“I _hate_ weddings,” I state.

Sam chuckles at my horrified look and I smile for the first time since I got into the shop. “This must be hard for you, then,” she replies. “Lois can be quite the Bridezilla, if I’d ever seen one.”

“Tell me about it,” I whine. “Be thankful that you only need to worry about the dresses. I get debriefed over every single detail… I’m sorry, but I don’t care if the tables are round or square, they’re tables!”

Sam throws her head back in laughter. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ve seen and heard it all before. Al least, this ends for you after the weekend… I have to deal with this all year round!”

I smile again. I decide I really like Sam.

Once she has finished pinning my dress I am ordered to sit down while I wait for all the other girls. Alex has fortunately stopped asking me awkward sex questions about Mon-El that I did my best to answer, as honestly as possible, and we catch up with all the other things going on in our life.

The fittings drag on for hours. Lois has been drinking double the champagne, using her sister’s pregnancy and her nerves as an excuse.

Suddenly, I start getting text messages from James. To say I am surprised would be an understatement. He hasn’t contacted me in over six years; I didn't even think he still had my phone number. Curiosity gets the best of me and I open them up. I don’t know what I expected, but a running play-by-play commentary on the boys’ fishing trip was definitely not it.

_James: It’s taken us twenty minutes to find a good spot, folks were too busy admiring the view._

_James: J’onn doesn't understand the need for quiet in order to do this. He is chanting to lure the fish!_

_James: These guys need you to show them how it's done. You are a thousand times better than these morons._

Surprisingly, a tiny smile makes its way to my lips. I won’t respond. I shouldn’t respond. I know I shouldn’t, especially, since I’m still angry at him for what he said last night. But, thing is, before shit hit the fan, James and I were really good friends. I remember our summers at the farm, and how we’d go fishing and swimming with my cousin. Those were some of my best moments. I know –logically– that I should ignore him and whatever he says. However, there’s a part of me that missed this: our comradery. I thought James would always be a part of my life. And I don’t know… maybe he still can.

Plus, chatting with him will be a nice distraction from the current hell I’m living. At least, it sounds more diverting.

_Ugh, no!_ What am I thinking? There’s no way. He’s married and having twins! His wife is literally standing three feet away from me. I slap myself to shake off those thoughts.

Also, why do I feel so guilty about Mon-El, all of a sudden?

My inner turmoil is interrupted by Lois shrieking. It is time to try on her dress. She wobbles slightly on her feet as the effects of the copious amounts of champagne she has indulged in become evident. Sam grabs hold of her hand and she clutches onto her tightly as she walks to the fitting room. She trips on her high-heel shoes on the way over. Sam grimaces when she steps on her toes. I give her a sympathetic look.

“I’m sorry,” Lois says trying to keep her balance but failing. “I’m just so nervous, I can’t stop shaking.”

“That’s okay,” Sam says as she half leads, half carries Lois to the changing room.

“What are the odds of her spilling champagne on her dress?” Alex whispers in my ear.

“Alex, don’t be mean,” I reply with a grin and both Alex and I have to stifle our giggles behind our hands.

Poor Lois, I know I shouldn’t hate her for taking her sister’s side after the whole James fiasco. I know I would’ve done the same if it were Alex. Nonetheless, there’s a part of me that feels betrayed by her. I always rooted for her and Clark. I guess I expected the same from her.

After a lot of bumping and groaning from within the closeted space, Sam pulls back the curtain to reveal Lois in her wedding dress. Lucy immediately starts crying –blame it on the pregnancy hormones– sobbing about how she looks like a princess and she is so happy for her big sister. Lois, somewhat unsteadily on her feet, nods her head enthusiastically in agreement.

“It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve even seen!” she declares. “I love it!”

I roll my eyes. The dress is enormous. I can’t wait to see how she’s planning on getting that thing through the aisle. The dress might not be my cup of tea –it's too much for my tastes– though, I have to admit Lois looks beautiful in it. And since I am not the one wearing it, I try not to let my hatred towards the monstrosity show. After the appropriate comments about how gorgeous she looks and how Clark won’t be able to keep his eyes off her, that he’ll be crying his eyes out when he spots her from the altar, Lois begins to feel light headed.

“This is… I can’t- I- I think I need to sit down,” she groans as she slumps into the nearest chair. She suddenly goes a bit green. Alex and I share a concerned look. “I’m sorry, girls… I don’t feel so well.”

“Lois, maybe we should get you out of that dress,” Alex suggests offering her hand. “We don’t want to get it wrinkled or stained.”

“I don’t think I can move right now,” Lois pitifully whines with her head lolling forward.

“Sure, you can. Come, I’ll help you,” Alex urges.

Lois grimaces and sticks her hand out so Alex can haul her up. The sudden movement obviously doesn’t agree with her stomach as she claps a hand over her mouth. Alex sees the urgency of the situation and starts dragging Lois to the restroom. She would be totally devastated if she ruined her dress this close to her wedding.

Lucy looks horrified and immediately apologizes profusely to Sam as she comes out of the dressing area.

“Don’t worry,” she reassures. “Believe it or not, this is not the worst thing that I’ve seen happen.”

“Really?” I ask, curious. What could possibly be worse than this?

My gag reflex flares up as Sam relates the most disgustingly disturbing story I’ve ever heard, closely reminiscing of a particular scene in the movie ‘Bridesmaids’ that will now be forever ingrained in my brain. _Ew, God, get it out of my ears!_

A while late Alex brings a mortified Lois out to the front room, and she apologizes again for her behavior. She blames it all on the nerves getting to her. Sam gracefully forgives her and tells her that she shouldn’t worry, that she will be a beautiful bride on her wedding day. This lifts up her gloomy mood, and we finally get to leave this place.

* * *

 

We arrive back at the house to find all the men in the kitchen marveling at what they had caught today. Lois immediately runs to Clark and buries her head into his shoulder still feeling humiliated about earlier. Clark looks at her concerned and asks her what is wrong. She must mumble what had happened, and Clark looks first amused and then sympathetic as he pulls his fiancée closer for comfort, rubbing her arms soothingly. Lois seems to forget about the whole ordeal just by being hugged by my cousin.

Looking at them, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever get to have that, too. Someone that can make it all better just by holding me.

The rest of the men are all huddled around my dad. I pick up from the incessant chatter that Dad managed to bring down the biggest catch. Everyone is chipping in their version of how they saw him reel it in. Everyone congratulates my dad on his great catch, and that it’d make a great dish for dinner tonight.

This doesn't surprise me. Dad loves the outdoors and is an experienced fisherman and hunter. He taught me and Alex all kinds of survival techniques.

My earlier disappointment for being excluded from the boat trip resurfaces. I can't believe I have spent my day trying on ugly dresses instead of going out fishing with my dad.

It sounded like a memorable trip.

Mon-El is in the thick of the congratulations hoard. He stands right next to my dad –like father and son– and I see Dad pat him on the shoulder and laugh after Mon-El says something apparently funny. Mon-El then returns the favor, and laughs heartily at something my dad whispers to him. The sight confuses me. I have never seen them bond like this before. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Dad has always liked Mon-El. He has always found him charming and polite, but they are very different people. Mon-El is more creative and outgoing while Dad is a more solitary figure who has no real interest in art, only in punching his way out of this. It is strange that although James is more similar to my dad, he never liked him. For a reason I can't quite pinpoint, it makes me happy to see Mon-El and my dad getting on so well. To know that he sees him as a son.

They both stop chatting to each other as they catch sight of me. They both smile at me and make their way over. As soon as he reaches my side, Mon-El wraps an arm around my waist and kisses my temple on his arrival. Now that he’s next to me, I can feel all the tension from the last four hours leave my body and fade completely.

“How was the fitting?” he asks rubbing soothing circles on my lower back.

“Excruciating,” I reply. “The bride ended up vomiting in her wedding dress.”

Dad and Mon-El’s eyes widen comically in surprise. “You’re kidding!” Mon-El says in disbelief. 

“Oh, I wish!” I exclaim. “Turns out… not the worse that could happen, though.”

Mon-El looks at me quizzically, but I just give him a signal that he doesn’t want to know. He seems to get my meaning pretty quickly and chuckles at my petrified eyes, pulling me closer to him.

“Well, your dad was pretty impressive today. I don’t know how he managed to catch that thing, it was humongous!” Mon-El declares. “It must’ve weighted like two hundred pounds.”

Dad laughs. “Oh, son. I couldn't have done it without your help,” he says to Mon-El.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Mon-El demurs. “I think I was scaring all the fish in a five mile radius.”

“I didn’t know it was possible to be loud even when drawing!” Dad cackles. “I think you might’ve gotten worse since that one time I took you fishing as a kid.”

I laugh, too, picturing Mon-El trying and failing to be stealthy. I remember all the times when Mon-El used to try and sneak up on Lena and me in an effort to scare us. He never did though. We could hear him coming from miles away. _Salmon skin roll._

“I think I should leave the breadwinning –fish-winning?– thing to you,” he says with a smile. “I’ll stay at home and do all the cooking.”

I smirk at him, not hiding how much I like the fact that the roles would be reversed in our relationship.

Just then, James comes across and decides to join in our conversation. “That’s hilarious,” he states a little smugly. “How does it feel to be the girl in your relationship?”

Whatever anger I had towards James that dissipated during the fitting has returned tenfold with that statement. I scowl at him. If this comment had come from anyone else, I might have taken it as a joke; but I know James meant it as an insult. What’s his deal, anyway?

First, he texts me about the fishing expedition and how terrible all the guys were at it. And now, he’s trying to make Mon-El look bad in front of my dad. I don’t understand what his agenda is, since he hasn't called anyone else a ‘girl’. Does he have a problem with Mon-El?

“Don’t worry about it,” I bite back. “Unlike others, Mon-El knows how to _please_ me.”

Dad goes beet red at what I have just insinuated, and even Mon-El looks a little embarrassed. He averts his eyes to the ground. I don't know where the hell that came from. I just don't want anyone to insult Mon-El, especially not James. He is one of the best people I know and he deserves better. I can't help but feel protective of him.

James glaringly narrows his eyes at me. “I'm glad he pleases you so,” he hisses through gritted teeth.

I move closer to Mon-El and give his waist a squeeze. He looks back up at me and places another kiss on the side of my head, before turning and smiling triumphantly at James. “We make each other _very_ happy,” he states defiantly.

James doesn’t reply and instead goes over to his wife, Lucy, who has just walked in. Dad still looks uncomfortable and, shortly after, he also excuses himself so he can go and talk to Alex.

I am left standing next to Mon-El with my arms wrapped around his waist, feeling content and not wanting to let go.

***

I try not to think too much about Kara’s actions and the feelings they have provoked in me. For one second I allow myself to believe that she truly cares about me, and that she’s not doing all this only to prove a point to James.

We stay close together throughout the entire evening, sitting beside the other on the dining table, where we delight on the grilled blue marlin Jeremiah caught this afternoon.

I can’t help but think what it’d be like to have it always be like this, with Kara next to me, her head resting on my shoulder, her family sitting in front of us, all conversing cheerily about trivial stuff.

I want _this_. I want _her_.

I want it to be _real_.

Nevertheless, I’m still not sure how to go about this. I’m scared that if I tell her about my feelings she’d be so freaked out and tell me never to speak to her again. And if she isn’t and she feels the same way about me… what if we don’t work out. Also, if I never tell her the truth, I’ll have to watch her meet someone else, and date someone else, and marry someone else.

No matter what, I end up losing her.

_I can’t lose her._

Kara must sense my uneasiness because, as soon as we close the door in our bedroom, she turns to me and asks me what’s wrong.

“You looked kinda upset at dinner," she pries timidly. "You okay?”

“I- It’s nothing,” I say, turning around to change into my pajamas, and giving her the space to do the same. “It’s been a long day, and I’m just… tired.”

_Tired of pretending_ , I finish inside my head but I don’t voice the thought out loud. I remain standing in the corner facing the wall –like a school kid put into time-out– waiting for Kara to give me the go ahead to turn around.

“I’m decent,” Kara announces and I spin to face her. _Gods_. She takes my breath away, she looks exquisite dressed in her flannel pajamas and her hair tied up in a cute ponytail. Her face is devoid of all makeup and she’s wearing fluffy polka dots socks. I don’t know how she does it, but she keeps catching me off guard.

How she can even look this gorgeous when preparing for bed is beyond me.

I move to my side of the bed as Kara moves under the covers. After I’m settled next to her, she breaks the silence repeating her concern over my recent despondent attitude, “Mon, are you sure you’re okay?”

I’m losing count of how many people I’ve been lying to these past few weeks, only I’d never thought Kara would be included in the list as well.

I grab her hand under the duvet and give her a comforting squeeze. I close my eyes and answer her as convincingly as I can. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know,” she responds while facing the ceiling. “You seem a little off.”

There’s a part of me right now that really dislikes the fact that she knows me so well. She’s the only one capable of catching my mood swings and giveaways.

“I’m fine, Kara,” I try to reassure her. “I think spending all day under the sun exhausted me more than I thought.”

This explanation seems to have finally quelled down her worries as she gives me my hand a tight squeeze in return. “Okay, but if something is bothering you, you know you can talk to me, right?”

Oh, Danvers. If only you knew… except you’re the _one_ person I can’t talk about this.

“Of course,” I reply. “Same thing to you, if you need to talk about anything… I’m here for you.”

“I know,” she retorts without hesitation and I swear I can almost hear the smile on her face.

We stay there quietly, lying side by side, until she moves to get into sleeping position. For an instant, I’m sure she’s gonna turn around and face the other way. However, she surprises me by facing my way and accommodating herself on my chest as a pillow.

“Goodnight, Mon,” Kara whispers into the night.

“Goodnight, Kara,” I murmur back, feeling frozen in place as her golden curls tickle my chin and her hand lays open against my erratically beating heart.

This shouldn't feel so good. This shouldn't feel so natural. Yet, it does. 

My eyes can no longer remain open, and as I feel myself slipping into in the arms of Morpheus, only one thought resonates in my head: _I’m so screwed_.


	9. Day 3: Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Game, set, match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, guys!  
> Here's an early update for all of you.  
> Hope you enjoy it! :)

Next morning, we wake up at the crack of dawn once more, and Mon-El tells me he’ll get started on his promised breakfast. He informs me it may take a while, so I decide to go for a short run around the field before joining him to eat. I grab a pair of leggings, an oversized t-shirt and my running shoes, then make my way outside.

I take a deep breath as my feet hit the gravel; the early morning air is crisp and cool as it fills my lungs. I start jogging lightly towards the edge of the field. I’m almost down the end of the pathway when a male voice calls after me and stops me in my tracks.

“Kara!” I hear James shout. “Kara, wait up!”

I groan in exasperation and mentally prepare for whatever he came here to say. After our recent interactions, I just want James Olsen to stay the hell away from me. I don't want to argue, and I certainly don’t want to have to defend myself against his not-so-thinly-veiled insults at this early hour.

It’s _such_ a beautiful morning and now he’s going to ruin it for me.

I think about ignoring him and just run away to avoid him. However, I know him, and he is nothing but determined. He will just follow me and pester me until I give in. I’d better deal with him now and get it over with.

He stops in front of me slightly out of breath, and I throw him an annoyed look. “What the hell do you want?” I demand, not even hiding my irritation.

“Hey, don’t bite my head off, yet,” James says, putting his hands up in surrender. “Actually, I- I want to apologize. I admit I’ve been kind of a jerk to you and Mon-El… and I’m sorry.”

I eye him suspiciously; I still don’t get what’s his aim, what’s he trying to accomplish by suddenly being nice to me. “The word ‘jerk’ doesn’t even come close to describe how you’ve been acting.”

“I guess I deserve that,” he says, looking contrite. “Look, I know Mon-El is a nice guy. I quite like him. It’s just- I always thought you only saw him as a brother. I never imagined you two would get together, it just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

I avert my eyes to hide the guilt I’m feeling. James may not be my favorite person at this moment, but it doesn’t take away the fact that I’ve been lying to him –and to everyone else.

“Well, things change,” I reply keeping my eyes fixed on my shoes.

“Yeah, they do, and I’m glad,” he replies. “Hey, I’m really happy for you. You know, I’ve watched you two these last few days. I’ve never seen you more happy; not even when we were dating. And I know that he would never do anything to hurt you.”

He sounds genuine and it’s my turn to be taken by surprise. I’d forgotten how sweet James Olsen could be. “Thank you.”

James nods and continues hesitantly, “Also, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“What is it?”

“Look, I know I messed up. Like, big time. But-” he says as he scratches the back of his head in obvious discomfort. “We used to be good friends, you and I. Remember? _Super_ friends. And I hate that we’ve lost that. So, I was wondering… if I promise to behave from now on, do you think we can be friends again?”

My first instinct is to scoff in derision. There’s no way we could ever be friends again after what he’s done. Even more so, because he has yet to acknowledge the fact that is all his fault that we’re no longer friends. I don’t think he fully grasps the concept of the amount of pain he’s caused me. A part of me will forever associate betrayal and hurt with him.

On the other hand, when I study him carefully, I can see that he is genuinely sorry for his behavior. We can never go back to the way we used to be, but I at least can manage to remain civil towards him for the remainder of this week. We still have three more days until the wedding ceremony, and as bridesmaid and best man, there’s no way I’ll be able to avoid him for long.

That’s why, I decide to be the better person and accept his proposal. “Fine,” I say while shrugging my shoulders indifferently.

“Great!” he exclaims, putting his hands together. “Do you mind if I join you?”

I reluctantly agree, and suggest we start heading towards the field. James immediately falls into place beside me. We start jogging along at a brisk pace, and he starts the conversation by asking me about my promotion. I tell him all about it and he seems to hang onto every word I say.

We’ve been running in silence for some time, when James admits, “I can’t remember the last time I felt so free running like this.”

“Me, neither,” I beam. The sun is shining brightly on our faces, our footsteps are moving in sync with the wind; it’s true, it feels amazingly freeing to be out running like this.

It’s my turn to start a conversation, so after debating on the best subject to bring up, I settle for his upcoming fatherhood. A beat, then I say, “You’ll be running after your children soon.”

“Right,” James replies halfheartedly, erasing the grin on his face.

His demeanor makes me frown uncomfortably. He’s always seemed so excited about the babies’ arrival. As if he couldn’t wait to be a dad and rub his perfect little children in everybody’s faces. I find this response shocking, to be honest. He doesn’t look too happy, he actually looks downright terrified.

I decide to drop the topic and continue our run in silence, which turns out to be rather enjoyable. For what feels like the first time in forever, James hasn’t tried to put me or my choices down. It’s almost like how it used to be between us. Like he said, we were _super_ friends, and I relish in the familiarity.

* * *

 

We make our way back to the house, chuckling along the pathway while reminiscing about our college years. I spot Alex sitting on the porch swing reading a book. James retells the story of the time we pulled a prank on our RA on duty, and I throw my head back in laughter, as he joins me and places a hand on my shoulder.

The noise must’ve alerted my sister of our presence because she looks up from her books to glare at us. She’s eyeing us up and down with disdain as we approach, her eyebrows knitted together in anger. I stop when I see this, and immediately shake off James hand from where it's sitting on my upper arm.

What in Rao’s name am I doing? I shouldn't be seen frolicking with my ex. I’m _supposed_ to have a boyfriend –a loving and gorgeous boyfriend.

I can’t chastise myself enough. How could I have been so _stupid_? I have nothing to gain –and everything to lose– by getting close to James again. For heavens’ sake, he's _married_. He’s got twin babies on the way –as well as all the potential to hurt me. I am only setting myself up for more heartache. It doesn't matter that it feels somewhat familiar and nice. I shouldn’t have done it. I can’t believe I fell for that.

_I’m such an idiot._

James leaves me at the porch stairs, bidding me farewell while completely oblivious to Alex’s reaction, and continues on his way into the house. With my tail between my legs, I move to where my sister is sitting, shooting daggers at me with her dark brown eyes.

As soon as James is out of sight, Alex slams her book shut and looks up to glower at me. “Does Mon-El know?” she hisses accusingly. “Does he know you’ve been running around with your ex?”

Her words irk me. I know she’s right, but I don’t like her judging my actions. “Mon-El doesn’t control who I ‘run around’ with,” I bite back a bit too harshly.

Alex gives me one of her disapproving-big-sister looks that she’s perfected over the years in response. I hate disappointing her. And I hate that she’s right. She’s _absolutely_ right. I know I shouldn’t be spending any time with James.

“I don’t think _your boyfriend_ would be too happy if he’d seen the two of you together,” Alex berates me. “Listen, Kara. I love you, and I want what’s best for you, so, I’m only gonna say this once… Mon-El is such a good guy, and it’s obvious that he’s so in love with you! Don’t ruin what you have going on with him, especially not because of that asshole of James Olsen.”

“I-” I start to justify my actions to her, but Alex won’t let me.

“No,” she interrupts me. “Just… don’t go breaking his heart like James did to you, okay? He doesn’t deserve it; and you better than anyone knows what that feels like.”

A part of me is outraged that my sister has compared my actions to James’s. I am _not_ a cheater. I’m not cheating on Mon-El. Besides, I have no heart to break. Contrary to what my sister thinks, Mon-El Gand is _not_ in love with me.

Another part of me kind of resents the fact that my sister has taken Mon-El’s side on this. I mean, I know they’re pretty close. But, she’s _my_ sister. I mean, shouldn’t she worry about _my_ heart getting broken? I admit it hurts a little that she’s being so protective over Mon-El, making me look like the bad guy in all this.

And then, there’s that part of me that’s ashamed at the truth of Alex’s implications. Because, I know she’s got a point here. No matter which way you look at it, what I did was _wrong_.

Too bad I’m too headstrong to admit it out loud.

“Mon-El knows nothing’s going on,” I reply stubbornly. “We trust each other completely.”

Alex gives me an incredulous look that says she hopes so, and with a huff, picks up her book and leaves. I hate getting into confrontations with my older sister, particularly when I know she is right.

I was stupid with James today.

As soon as I am alone with my thoughts, images of Mon-El with Dana, his ex-girlfriend, enters my brain. I see them laughing, and joking, and holding hands, and being happy. For some reason that picture doesn't sit right with me, as a feeling akin to jealousy blooms in my chest.

My earlier joy from running has turned sour now. I think about Mon-El, and his sparkly gray-blue eyes, and his kind blinding smile, and I curse at my own stupidity.

Suddenly, I know he is the one person I need to see to feel better. I stalk my way through the house to look for him. I don't have to look very far before I find him, unsurprisingly, in the kitchen pulling a fresh batch of muffins out of the built-in oven.

He is wearing a tight white plain t-shirt that does nothing to hide the way the muscles in his back move and contort as he reaches for the baking pan. I can’t help but admire his body, he really does have an appealing physique. He turns around and catches me staring. I look away quickly as he places the muffins down and gives me a smug grin.

“Like what you see?” he asks, sounding all too pleased with himself.

I fight the blush that threatens to rise in my cheeks. This is Mon-El. He is like a brother to me. I shouldn't be staring at him like that. I shouldn’t be thinking him to be  _appealing_.

I try to compose myself and act indifferent. “Of course, I like your muffins.”

Mon-El chuckles. “You really need to work on your flirting skills, I mean they’re improved, but they’re not quite _there_ yet.”

“Oh, shut up!” I reply. “Are they blueberry?”

“Yeah, they’re blueberry muffins… for you,” he confirms making a big show of presenting them to me. “You didn’t murder anyone yesterday, so this is me, keeping my end of the bargain.”

I grin happily and immediately reach for one but Mon-El slaps my hand out the way. “Nah-uh, they have to cool down first,” he says. I pout and he chuckles. “With the way you eat, it baffles me that you’re so skinny.”

“I have alien metabolism,” I deadpan and Mon-El laughs that cute breathy laugh of his that I adore.

I smile back at him and plop down on the high stool to wait for the muffins to cool. Mon-El asks me about my morning run and I tell him it was okay. I avoid any mention of James. For some reason, James and Mon-El don't co-exist very well together in my mind. Mon-El tells me about some crazy vivid dream he had last night that involved flying aliens and superheroes in capes. And just listening speak, and watching his lips move, I forget about James as I wait impatiently for breakfast to be ready.

It amazes me how easily Mon-El can cheer me up.

After what seems like the longest ten minutes of my life, Mon-El sets a cup of coffee and the plate of blueberry muffins in front of me. I take two and gorge on them before he can try to stop me, I hadn't realized how hungry I was. Mon-El looks at me with a bemused look on his face. He shakes his head before sipping his own coffee wordlessly. 

The kitchen is beginning to fill with the other house occupants, so we decide to change scenery. 

Mon-El wraps the last two muffins in a napkin and we remove ourselves to our favorite spot by the pier. The two empty Adirondack chairs awaiting to be filled by us.

It might only be the second day we’re doing this, but it feels as though we’ve been doing it for years.

“So, what’s our game plan?” Mon-El asks after a few minutes of peaceful companionable silence.

Today is the family volleyball championship. The Danvers vs The Kents.

Our team consists of Mon-El and me, my parents, my sister and her girlfriend, Maggie. While the Kent ensemble is made of Uncle Jonathan, Aunt Martha, Clark, Lois, and Lucy and James.

It’s just a friendly game to pass the time, considering we have an eleven-week pregnant woman playing for the opposite team.

However, Lois can be fiercely competitive. She played high-school varsity volleyball and it’s not shy to flaunt her skills in the sport. To be completely honest, I’d just wanted to relax today; hang out with Mon-El at the lake or take a stroll through the wheat fields. But I don’t have a choice… volleyball it is. 

“Don’t let the ball hit the ground,” I reply deadly serious.

We are both fit and possess our fair share of athletic qualities, and if I remember correctly, we do relatively well in team sports. Regardless, I don’t think Mon-El and I care as much as Lois does for this game.

Mon-El grins and nods. “Sounds like a good plan,” he says amused. “However, I don’t think athletes are meant to eat a full batch of blueberry muffins before their big game.”

I grin back in agreement, before taking his offering of the last bite of his muffin. “Well, _honey_ … if we’re gonna face eminent defeat, we might as well enjoy ourselves beforehand.”

* * *

 

A couple of hours later, we are both changed into our sports gear and ready for the volleyball match. I let out a loud chortle when I see Mon-El’s get-up. He really outdid himself on this one. 

He’s wearing white basketball shorts paired with a tight black t-shirt, and the brightest hot pink sneakers I’ve ever seen. His white socks are pulled up to his mid-calves. And to complete his look, there’s a hot pink headband around his forehead to match his shoes, just sticking out like a traffic sign, with his hair sticking out all over the place at odd angles.

He looks absolutely ridiculous. And _adorkable._

I feel the smile stretching my lips and pulling at my cheekbones. Mon-El sees this and smiles back at me. “Nice, huh?”

I shake my head at him amusedly. “It will certainly serve as a diversion against our opponents,” I respond with a chuckle.

“Good thinking, partner,” he says, his eyes bright in excitement. “We’ll distract them with my shiny shoes and your short shorts, while Alex scores. Perfect strategy!” Mon-El says nudging me with his elbow.

I groan while self-consciously tug down the bottom of my shorts in a feeble attempt to make them longer. I’m thinking of changing into sweatpants or leggings when Mon-El sees my embarrassment and pulls me to him.

“You’ve got great legs, Comets,” he whispers in my ear. “You gotta show’em off.”

A shiver goes up my spine as his breath hits that spot behind my ear. “Right,” I stammer weakly.

“Come on,” he whispers to me once again, picking up my hand and tugging me in the direction of the open fiend where my cousin placed a net for an impromptu volleyball court. “We don’t wanna forfeit.”

“We don’t?” I grumble as I let Mon-El pull me along, his musical laughter ringing in my ears.

* * *

 

We end up losing spectacularly.

According to Mon-El, we put up a good fight, but that doesn’t console my father. My dad can be many things, and one of them is a sore loser. Maggie and Alex excuse themselves to go freshen up, since Maggie arrived just in time for the match and hasn’t settled in yet.

Mon-El and I stand next to my mom and dad. I can see how frustrated Dad is over the lost match. But Mon-El is right, we came pretty close to winning, we even won the first set easily –after which, Mon-El proceeded to give me a high-five and pull me in by the waist for a short kiss–, we just couldn’t keep up the momentum. I think we got too cocky. In the end, though, the score was pretty tight: 20-25, 25-22, 25-23.

“We’ll get them next time, Dad,” I reassure him.

He grins back at me. “You bet'cha.”

I just smirk at my dad’s competitive side, and throw my mom a sympathetic look.

Mon-El tucks me into his side and rubs soothing circles on my back. I am amazed at how comfortable I am having him touch me by now. Instead of finding it annoying, like I did with James back when we were dating, I actually find it comforting. I like his touch, and this has a lot to do with Mon-El. He just has one of those personalities that soothes you, that makes you feel calm. James was always so rugged and fiery that I couldn’t find it in me to welcome his displays of affection.  

Mon-El grabs a seat and pulls me onto his lap. I give him a confused look.

“Just trust me,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on my temple.

I can only nod my head lamely at a loss of what to say. I shrug my shoulders and try to ignore how comfortable I am sitting in his arms.

Dad plonks down next to us, slapping Mon-El on the shoulder, while Mom goes over to talk to Aunt Martha.

“Mon-El, you have a great serve. Absolutely brilliant!” he declares. “Next time, Kara, I want you to go forward more, you have a wonderful spike."

Mon-El and I nod our heads as Dad gives us tips and suggestions on how to improve our game, and coaches us as if we were at the Olympics for a hypothetical rematch I’m hoping never happens. And even though I am secretly wishing I never have to play another volleyball match in my life, I listen to every word he says and savor this moment with him. I haven’t hung out with my dad in so long. It’s nice to be spending time together, even if it’s doing something I loathe.

“You make a great team,” Dad finishes. “Together, you two will be invincible.”

I blush at my dad’s words and the meaning they carry. It’s true, though, Mon-El and I make a pretty good team. Our strengths and weaknesses complement each other, in the way we can support the other person where they’re lacking.

Despite my revulsion for team sports, I quite enjoyed myself. Mon-El may be a decent player but he doesn't take it too seriously. During the match, we’d ended up laughing between points and making fun at our misses. In the end, I don't care about losing. I had a really good time playing with Mon-El and my family, so I choose to focus on that instead.

It was only a game, after all.

Mon-El and I both nod our heads and Dad makes us do this silly hand raising gesture like the Power Rangers used to do.

Mom comes back to where we’re sitting and takes a chair beside my father. “How are you, losers, doing?”

“May I remind you, you’re also part of the losing team, dear,” my dad objects to my mom.

“Okay, then,” Mom just rolls her eyes exasperated but amused. “How are you, my _fellow_ losers, doing?”

We all chuckle, and it’s Mon-El who answers her. “I’m doing just fine,” he replies looking me straight in the eyes. “I have the greatest prize right here.”

He then places another kiss on my temple while giving my waist a squeeze, and I realize he means _me_. I turn crimson at the compliment and playfully shove his arm. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”

“I am a walking rom-com on steroids,” he jokes.

My parents chuckle at his words, and they have the desire effect of helping cheer up my dad over our defeat. 

Slowly, the crowd begins to disperse, including my parents, as they all make their way back to the house. Mon-El and I begin to wonder back leisurely, walking hand in hand at a slow pace. We chat amiably as we relive some of the highlights and more interesting moments of today’s shenanigans. Mon-El is an animated storyteller and uses lots of hand gestures and facial expressions to describe any situation. I find myself clutching my sides to stop them from hurting after laughing so much. I can't remember a time in my life when I have laughed this much.

He nails Lois’s loud shriek when a spike –I swear it was an accident– hit her in the face, and she began hysterically screaming that she couldn’t get married with a broken nose. She was fine, by the way, no broken noses to be accounted for.

I am in absolute agony in a fit of giggles that I need to stop for a second and catch my breath, it’s getting difficult to breathe through so much laughter. Mon-El seems enjoy my mirth, and in spite of my protests, continues to ramble on as we walk on.

My uncontrollable laughter persists the entire way there. Though, it feels liberating, freeing, in a much better way than running in the morning with James felt at any point in time.

Eventually, we reach the house where homemade lemonade and snacks are waiting for us. I try to calm myself down as we get closer to people again. Mon-El decides to head up for a shower and excuses himself.

“I’ll be right back,” he says bending down to give me a tender kiss on the lips that lasts way longer than I was expecting… a kiss that leaves me wanting more.

I smile and nod in response, slightly speechless.

As he pulls away from me, I catch Lena staring at me from across the room. Her big blue eyes are burning with censure. We spoke at length on the subject again yesterday, and I know she finds this whole situation weird; also, she found the kiss at the cocktail reception entirely uncomfortable. I can see where she’s coming from, she has to keep a secret she doesn't agree with. Plus, Mon-El and I are the two people, aside from Jack, she is closest to and it must be difficult for her to see us acting this way. I don’t blame her. Must be made even harder by the fact she knows it’s all fake; she’s even admitted that she is surprised at how convincing we have been... that if she hadn’t known the truth, we would’ve definitely fooled her, too.

The look she gives me suggests she is confused about what Mon-El and I are doing. It's like she can't figure us out, whether we’re real or not. I decide to ignore the look, there’s no point in arguing.

She knows this is _not_ real.


	10. Tuesday Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara and Mon-El are going to a party!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers!  
> Sorry this is a bit late, but to make it up you, this chapter is slightly longer than usual.  
> We get to hear from Mon-El again. POV changes after the asterisks.  
> So, without further ado, enjoy!

The much anticipated –and dreaded, for me– bachelor and bachelorette parties are tonight. And to add to the ever growing list of humiliating things I’ve had to do for this wedding, the theme for this evening is “Superheroes”, meaning I’ll be donning an extremely tight and uncomfortable outfit, complete with a heavy red cape.

Every aspect of this wedding seems to be another form of torture.

After dinner, a steady stream of people leave to get ready. Mon-El and I stay behind, the conversation flowing easily between us like always. I don’t know if it’s the ridiculousness of this whole situation or if I never truly noticed before, but Mon-El is the funniest guy I’ve ever met. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always found him funny and charming. But this week… I swear he exceeded all my expectations.

I haven’t laughed like this in a really long time. You know, like when you feel you’re about to die from laughter. And I certainly never enjoyed myself this much around anyone before, not even James. Also, I never noticed how endearing Mon-El’s laugh is, how he closes his eyes and throws his head back, the corners of his eyes get all wrinkly and adorable, his cheeks dent with those cute dimples, the musical sound he makes so carefree and happy.

I think I feel _happy_ when I’m around him.

I don’t remember the last time I felt that way.

A few minutes later, we make our way back to our room contentedly. Being around him has become so easy, almost like second nature. I’m the most affectionate I’ve been in my life, and it doesn’t hurt that those small kisses and tiny pecks are getting more and more frequent.

I am convinced we are convincing people that we are a real couple.

We get inside and he closes the door behind us, I turn around and see him standing there nervously with his hands stuffed in his jeans pocket. I throw a curious glance his way, I have no idea what has him looking so anxious at the moment. 

“Um, Kara?” he starts as he adorably worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “I- I hope I haven’t crossed the line today with all the kisses and the lap sitting and… you know,” he gestures vaguely with his hands in the air.

His eyes are so wide in concern, it’d be almost amusing, if he didn’t look so worried.

I deliberate this for a second. There may have been lots of kisses and caresses and displays of affection –more than usual– but none of them made me uncomfortable. I accepted them all readily, I didn’t mind a single one. Besides, nothing happened as deep as that kiss on our first night here. Our deal was to avoid those kinds of kisses. So far, we have complied with the terms of our agreement, and I don’t see any issues with how things are playing out.

“You’re lucky you’re such a good kisser, otherwise I’d be filing a law suit as we speak,” I joke. Mon-El pulls a small smile and then looks down at the ground bashfully. “Besides, I know they don’t mean anything,” I add and he raises his head back at me with a strange look.

“Yeah, right,” he states sadly and clears his throat awkwardly. “Um, of course they don’t mean anything.”

What I think is a flash of disappointment and hurt crosses his face, which only confuses me. What have I done? Whatever it is, he doesn't let it bother him for long as he shakes it off and plants his usual smile back on his face. “Come on, _Supergirl_. We need to suit up. I can't wait to see you in those killer red boots," he says cheekily wriggling his eyebrows at me.

“Don’t say another word,” I reply as I playfully shove him. “Your costume is not much better, _Valor_. What kind of hero is this ‘Valor’ anyway…? I’ve never heard of him.”

Mon-El makes a show of feigning hurt by clutching his chest. “You wound me, Supergirl. You don’t recognize your fellow Legionnaire?”

“Legion- what?”

“The Legion of Superheroes?” I throw him my best I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about look. Now, he just looks appalled. “Okay, you really need to expand your comic-book knowledge.”

“Whatever,” I roll my eyes. “It’ll be fun to see you in tight tights, though.”

“Oh, babe, now don’t go all possessive on me,” Mon-El declares. “I have the goods, I gotta flaunt them.”

I shake my head at him, grab my costume from out my suitcase and head to the bathroom to get changed. Mon-El just grins again before searching through his bag for his own costume.

“Get over yourself!” I exclaim as I pass him on my way out.

I pull off my jeans and t-shirt and slip on the blue corset with the big “S” on the chest, and the red leather mini skirt. I thank Rao and all the gods in the universe that it actually fits quite nicely. I’m not the most fitness inclined person, but I’ve always tried to find time to do some running and get my endorphins flowing. Luckily, it has paid off.

I stare back at my reflection in the mirror. I hate dressing up. Lena and Alex say that it is just a bit of fun and that I should not take it too seriously. I just wish this bit of fun didn't make me feel so uncomfortable.

I dab on a bit of mascara and lipstick, and then head back out to Mon-El.

He has his back turned to me and is only just pulling up the bottoms of his suit as I enter. Without meaning to, I catch a glimpse of his very pert, very naked, behind.

“Oh, oh, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” I apologize as I cover my eyes with my hands and flush in embarrassment. “I thought you’d be ready by now.”

I can't believe I just walked in on him changing.

I hear Mon-El chuckle which makes me lower my hands. I’m greeted by the sight of Mon-El’s sculpted naked chest, with half of his suit hanging precariously by his hips. “Enjoying the view, I see.”

My eyes widen and my cheeks redden at that. He crosses his arms, wearing an amused look on his face.

My eyes linger for longer than they probably should on his toned torso. I have seen his naked chest many times before, since has no issue wondering around our apartment in only a towel, but this is the first time it has this much of an effect on me. I take him all in; the defined abs and deep V line that leads down into his boxers. My eyes follow the trail of dark hairs that run down from his naval and past his waist band. I am suddenly curious to know where they lead to.

Mon-El finishes pulling on the top part of his suit and clears his throat to get my attention. I snap back to look at his face embarrassed. He looks back at me a little smugly but doesn't provide any comment at my blatant appraisal of his body. “Well, aren’t we quite the Power Couple,” the costume does little to hide his sinewy muscles impeding any coherent thoughts to form in my brain. “Ready to fight the bad guys, partner?”

This helps me gather my wits about me and forget my earlier embarrassment as I laugh at his comment. “I’ll take on Batman, you take on Catwoman,” I say, alluding to Clark’s and Lois’s costumes for the evening.  

Don’t ask me why my cousin chose Batman as his alter ego for the night, I’d figured he would’ve gone with Superman. I don’t know why but it seemed like the more fitting and obvious choice.

“Who would’ve thought?” Mon-El replies with a grin. “A girl from Krypton and a boy from Daxam, working together.”

“Huh?” I ask confused.

"I'll explain later," Mon-El just laughs at my clueless look, and then spots the red leather cape that completes my outfit lying on the bed, and moves to pick it up. He walks over to me and places the large piece of fabric gently on my shoulders, clasping the ends on the hidden hooks inside my neckline. His hands slowly move up to the nape of my neck, when he softly tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I do think you pull off the whole superhero hero look better than I do,” he whispers while his fingers lightly trace my cheek.

The atmosphere has suddenly changed, flooded with a new intensity. All joking has vanished as I stare up at him, momentarily locked onto the spot. His face is so close to mine I can feel his breath mingling with mine, and my heart begins to beat faster. The air in the room seems to get hotter and hotter by the second, and I find it difficult to breathe. I catch a whiff of the musky lemony scent of his cologne and instantly realize I have always associated this smell with him. He stares at me raptly as if searching for something in my features, as if the answer to every question in the Universe can be found within my eyes. I can only stare back at him dumbly, noticing for the first time that there are also tiny specks of purple in his blue irises, making them all the more mesmerizing.

Suddenly, he steps back breaking the tension in the room and snapping me out of my musings. “Come on, Girl of Steel,” Mon-El jokes as he clasps his own blue leather cape on his shoulders. “We’ve got a world to save.”

He runs his hand down my arm to reach for my hand and interlaces his fingers between mine.

I've lost the ability to speak. So, I just nod my head as I let him lead me out the room.

* * *

 

As we make our way down, I feel something vibrating at my side. Mon-El lets go of my hand and fumbles for the cell phone in his concealed pocket. He reads the caller ID and grimaces. “Sorry, Kara. It’s my mother, I have to take this,” he explains. “She’s probably calling to check up on you, she definitely likes you more than me.”

“It’s fine, go ahead,” I tell him and he goes off to take his call somewhere more private.

I carry on walking toward the meeting place, but I as turn the corner I bump into James. He looks me up and down in my costume with a cheeky grin on his face. I cross my arms across my chest to try and shield myself from him. “Oh, look! It’s Supergirl!” he declares jokingly.

I roll my eyes at his comment. “And who are you supposed to be?”

James has on a full-body armor, complete with a shield and a mask. “I’m Guardian,” he states.

“Who?”

“Never mind,” he waves me off. It irritates for a second, but then I remember my lack of knowledge and interest for comic-book characters and decide to let it slide.

“Did you have a theme for your bachelor party?”

“Military,” he replies with a grin.

“What?” I snort surprised.

“Lucy had us all dressed up in military garb,” he explains.

I shake my head. “Can’t say I’m surprised,” I say.

James smiles and nods his head in agreement. “It seems like a lifetime ago,” he says solemnly.

I become confused in his sudden change of mood. He looks despondent as he looks down at his shoes, scuffing a spot on the hardwood floors.

“It’s only been, what? Three, four years?” I point out.

He raises his head as he answers me. “I know, but… have you ever woken up one morning and just thought: how did I get here?” he asks me earnestly.

I shake my head. “Can’t say that I have.”

He takes a deep breath before proceeding. “It just seems like one minute I was in college having fun and the next thing I know I am married, with a wife and two kids on the way,” he declares, getting somewhat riled up. “It feels like I have missed out on life for the last six years of my life.”

“Having a wife and kids is nice,” I say trying to comfort him. I move closer and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“So everyone keeps telling me,” he scoffs. “But, at times, I think you have it better. I envy you being so free and unattached. You can do whatever you want. Nothing and nobody is holding you back. I- I’m stuck.”

I don’t tell him that being unattached is not as great as it seems. I have spent my single years immersed in my work. I have hardly been making the most of being ‘young, wild and free’. I do understand it must be scary becoming a new parent. It's normal to fear the unknown, but I know James will be a good father.

“You’re a good husband, and you’ll be a great dad,” I reassure him. “I mean… this is what you wanted.” _What you broke up with me for,_ I think but refrain from voicing out loud.

“I guess,” he mutters unconvincingly. “It’s just… after college was my chance to be free and enjoy my life, but no, I had to go and get myself tied down at the first chance I got. There are so many things I still want to do and experience, and I’ll never get the chance anymore!”

He then pauses and looks down at me seriously, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Sometimes, I think I made the biggest mistake letting you go,” he says softly. “We could’ve had it all, together.”

 _What!?_ My mind is hysterically screaming in shock.

I am, suddenly, made aware of how close to me he’s standing, our bodies are almost touching, and my arm is still wrapped around his shoulder. Every cognitive voice inside my head screams at me to move away, but my body seems to be frozen in place, having forgotten how to function. I just stand there motionless as his lips make their way down and he presses them against mine.

Instantly, I am hit with the familiarity of his kiss; the minty fresh taste of his tooth paste and the chapped feeling of his dry lips. For a few seconds, but a few seconds too long, I find myself kissing him back. When he feels me respond positively, James pulls me closer and groans into the kiss as he tries to make it deeper.

As he does this, Mon-El's face pops up in my mind’s eye.

The surprise of this thought is enough to pull me to my senses and I slap him. _Hard_. I spring away from James putting a good few feet of distance between us.

“What the hell was that?” I ask; half angry, half ashamed.

“Kara…” he starts but I cut him off.

“No, no, this is wrong,” I exclaim. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

I don’t usually swear much, I don’t like it. But this situation surely merits the use of one little F bomb.

“Kara, please. Maybe- maybe we-” James tries as he takes a step towards me, reaching out for me.

I take another step back from him shaking my head in disbelief. The kiss was all wrong. It felt _wrong_.

“No, maybe-we nothing!” I am buzzing with pent-up anger. “You are married! _You_ broke up with me and married someone else! Your wife is pregnant with twins, and I- I have… Oh, Rao, I have Mon-El,” I stutter as my hand flies to my mouth in anguish. _Mon-El_. The thought of him is enough to turn all my ire into deep shame.

James goes to speak again, but I don’t let him. “No, listen to me. We were over a long time ago, James. You’re just scared about becoming a father, but that’s not my problem. So, go back to your wife and leave me alone!” I say determinedly before dashing off to get as far away from him as possible.

* * *

 

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

I can’t believe how idiotic I’ve been. I should’ve never let myself get in that position in the first place. I should’ve never encouraged James in any way. I may have never liked Lucy, but that doesn’t mean I get to do to her what she did to me.

There are no words to describe the disgust I’m feeling at my reprehensible behavior.

_What have I done?_

I am so distraught and not looking where I am going, and soon bump into a solid figure.

“Hey, Kara, where are you going?” Mon-El asks confused as he steadies me with his hands on my waist.

I look up at him relieved he is here, before flinging my arms around his neck. Here, being so close to him, I find immediate comfort. Mon-El rapidly senses that I am upset, and wraps his arms around me to console me.

“Kara, what’s wrong?” he asks in a concerned voice. “Has something happened? Did someone hurt you?”

“I’m an awful person,” I admit, muffled by his chest.

“You’re the most beautiful person I know,” he reassures me.

“No, no, I’m not,” I disagree. “I’m the most awful, horrible, terrible person ever.”

“What makes you think so?”

I don't know how to tell him. I know I have to, but I’m scared of his reaction. For some reason I feel like I’ve betrayed him. I guess, in some level, I have.

“James kissed me,” I mumble unintelligently.

I feel his arms tense around me.

“James did _what_?” Mon-El snaps angrily.

I look up at Mon-El now and see the rage in his brilliant blue eyes. I hate that I’m the reason his eyes look that way.

“I bumped into him in the hallway, and we got to talking. He was saying all these crazy stuff about how he regretted getting married before fully experiencing life, and that he was feeling trapped because he can’t do the things he wants to do,” I say, holding back the tears that threaten to fall from my eyes. “He told me he thought he made a mistake in breaking up with me.”

“And he kissed you,” Mon-El says sternly.

I nod my head. “And I kissed him back. For a moment there, I kissed him back,” I confess shamefully. “I'm such a horrible person. What kind of person kisses someone else’s husband?”

Mon-El grabs hold of my shoulders and looks me straight in the eye.

“Did you stop it?” he asks seriously.

I nod. “Yeah, and I slapped him, too.”

"That's my girl," he grins proudly at me and blows a sigh of relief before continuing, “Kara, you have nothing to feel ashamed of, okay? You’re not the bad guy here, James is. He’s the one that kissed another woman other than his wife. He’s the one who took advantage of your lingering feelings for him. He’s the major asshole, not you.”

I think over what Mon-El has just said, and I make a shocking revelation. He is wrong, I don't have any lingering feelings for James anymore. I am not in love with him anymore, I’m not even attracted to him anymore. If anything, the kiss has proven he doesn't have the same effect on me as he did back in college. When I was kissing him just now, I just went through the motions. It didn't stir anything in me. It was robotic.

I felt _nothing_.

This realization is so freeing. I can feel the fog that has surrounded me ever since that day he broke up with me being lifted. I have wasted too much time trying to get over him and what he did to me. After many years and many exhausting attempts to forget him, I can safely say I am finally free of him. Now I can have my life back.

I look up at this kind man who has always looked out for me, his presence a constant fixture throughout all these years, and I realize I don’t know what I would’ve done without him. Not for the first time –and most definitely not for the last– I find myself giving thanks to the skies above that I have Mon-El in my life. 

I nod my head at him and burrow myself further against his chest. I let myself relax into his embrace as he rubs soothing circles on my back. Here, in his arms, I feel safe and content.

I don't know how long we stand there in silence, but eventually I pry myself off him to recompose myself for the people waiting downstairs. I ask Mon-El how do I look, and he answers with his usual line of: “ _Absolutely beautiful_.”

I lace my fingers with Mon-El’s, letting him know I feel better, and we make our way downstairs together.

* * *

 

Everyone is waiting in the entrance way for the limousines to pick us up. Lois stands by Clark on one side, both looking dapper in their dark costumes. I spy James a few steps next to them talking to some of his work buddies, Lucy is the only one who was allowed to forego the clothing theme, because of her pregnancy. I can’t imagine it being comfortable wearing tights with a pregnant belly.

James stares at me and Mon-El accusingly as we go out to the front porch. I avoid his gaze and focus on Mon-El instead. He gives James an angry glare in return as we walk past him and go over to where Lena and Jack are standing by the rail; Alex and Maggie are getting cozy on the porch swing. Lena smiles at me when we arrive.

“Look at you, looking all _super_ as Supergirl,” Lena declares and Jack wraps his arm around her waist. They deviated a bit from the superheroes theme, opting to come as villains instead. And none others that The Joker and Harley Quinn.

“You look just as super, honey,” Jack tells her placing a kiss on her temple.

“Just as?” Lena questions with a perfectly raised eyebrow.

“I-I mean, well… You both look super. Super good,” Jack bumbles trying to dig himself out of the hole he created.

Mon-El and I both laugh and Lena gives Jack a playful nudge. “Oh, honey, compliments are really not your forte,” Lena grins before placing a small kiss on his lips. Jack relaxes and deepens the kiss a little. Mon-El and I chuckle at them again, and watch on contentedly standing in each other’s arms.

The first limo pulls up to the driveway to pick us girls up. Many say goodbye to their significant others, and get ready to depart. James is still looking over our way, which I can tell is bothering Mon-El.

I tell my “boyfriend” I’ll see him later and move to follow Lena to the vehicle. However, he stops me by grabbing my waist and pulling me to him for a deep kiss. A kiss reminiscent of the one we shared that first night at the cocktail reception. And much like that one, this kiss has all my nerves tingling and blood boiling as Mon-El tangles his tongue with mine in a swirling motion.

Without second thought I pull him closer to deepen the kiss even further, desperate to feel the heat that seems to be radiating off his body. Closer, closer... still not close enough.

I’m starting to feel lightheaded from breathlessness, when Mon-El breaks our kiss and rests his forehead against mine.

“Keep that in mind when you’re surrounded by attractive naked men dancing around,” he murmurs huskily. I nod my head shakily as I inhale his delicious musky scent.

He steps away from me and I immediately feel the cold without him near. He takes my hand and walks me to the car door. “Later, babe,” he states as he helps me get in and closes the door behind me.

As the limo starts backing away, I see Mon-El give James one last angry glare, before they disappear from view.

***

Clark bangs down another large glass of expensive whiskey in front of me. He downs his own glass in one go before flinging an arm around my shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“What an amazing night!” he declares as he swings slightly on his stool. “I should get married more often!”

I turn to give him a big grin and then slap him heartily on the back. “I have to agree,” I reply. “Thanks for letting me come tonight.”

Clark has been showering me with drinks all night. From the moment we all walked into the bar, Clark has made sure that no one is ever without a drink in their hands. It's an endless conveyor belt of tequila, fine whiskey and beer. I haven't drunk like this since college and am rapidly losing my inhibitions. But I can't find it in me to care, I’m actually enjoying myself. Some of Clark’s friends are a bit stuck-up but on the whole they are an amusing bunch of guys. It’s hilarious to watch the sometimes dorky and serious cousin of Kara Danvers letting himself go loose for one night, and I find myself joining in on many of his antics.

Clark gives my shoulders another squeeze. “You’re welcome, man. We’re basically cousins already.”

I give him a lopsided smile, before downing the smoky liquid in my glass. “Yeah, I’m a very lucky guy.”

“And she’s lucky to have you, too,” Clark says tipping his head at me. “You know, between you and me, Lois was convinced you two were making the whole relationship thing up. She was waiting for the inevitable moment you guys blew up your cover… but after that kiss, uff, I don’t think anyone could doubt you are for real. I mean, talk about chemistry!”

I try really hard to focus in on Clark, but he just won't stop moving. I narrow my eyes and nod my head seriously. “Well, to be fair, I couldn’t believe it myself when Kara finally agreed to go out with me.”

Clark's revelation doesn't surprise me. That Lois suspected us, it was clear for all to see. I am surprised, though, at the fact that we’ve convinced her, and not just her but everybody else, we're a couple. It's hard to believe we’ve been _that_ convincing. But then again, I am not faking it anymore. Guess that's the secret to our success.

“Anyways, man, I’m happy for you and my cousin. You must be a good guy, or she wouldn’t be with you,” Clark replies.

I smile gratefully at his compliment. “Thanks.”

My phone vibrates and I immediately grin as I go to answer it. With my attention elsewhere Clark turns to his friend, Pete, and they begin chatting about the recent football games. The grin is still plastered on my face as I open the message from Kara.

_Kara: The stripper just tried to give me a lap dance! I had to run to the restroom and hide! I would have much preferred if it had been you! xo_

My smile only broadens. I started texting her shortly after we left. The alcohol has caused my guard to fall down and I have been bold enough to text her things I would never have the courage to say to her face. We've been keeping each other up to date with the events from each of our respective parties. The more alcohol I consume, the more flirty the messages get. It is messages like this one that give me the hope that maybe my feelings for her are not as one-sided as I’d previously thought.

I don’t even try to deny how I feel about her anymore. I’m falling in love with her. Hard and fast. Every moment spent with her only causes me to fall deeper and deeper. We have so much fun together. We know each other so well that we don't need to put on any pretenses. We are completely ourselves around each other and it is the most relaxed and happy I’ve felt in a long time. It –us– feels like the most natural thing in the world.

I want to tell her how I feel, so badly. I want this to be real, for us to become a real couple, but I am still unsure where her head is at right now. There was a moment before we went downstairs for the party tonight where I thought she felt it too. We had just stood there, both locked to the spot, frozen in time. The atmosphere changed, buzzing in its intensity. And I was hyper aware of everything about her. The tiny scar and the cute crinkle between her eyebrows. Her comet-like eyes, the same color as the sky in a summer day. The intoxicating sweet lavender scent of her perfume. The slight sensuous sound of the hitch in her breath.

It would have been so easy to bend down and kiss her. To spill my guts and confess my feelings for her. But… I chickened out. I don't think I could handle it if she didn't return those feelings and rejected me. I’m scared to put myself back out there. It's been such a long time since I've felt this way about any girl.

Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had. Not like _this_.

I've never felt like this about anyone in my life... I didn't know that there were these many feelings to even be had.

Kara Danvers is the Kryptonite to my Superman. She’s a piece of my home, but she also has the power to end me.  
  
For the time being, I guess I'll just wait to see if she makes a move first. I don't want to rush her into anything and then ruin whatever relationship –or whatever this is– we have going on now. If or when we happen, I want Kara to be ready and on the same page as me.

I type out my reply and hit send. I grin like a teenager as I wait for my cell phone to light up with her response.

However, as I am waiting, Clark loudly greets the person who has just re-entered the room. My least favorite one from the whole party.

“There's the best best-man in the world!” he declares opening his arms wide to hug the tall, dark figure approaching him.

James gives him a smile before reaching around his best friend to grab a drink. Clark thanks him for organizing his bachelor party before babbling on about Lois. James listens on, placating the very drunk groom. He appears to be focused on his best friend, but his gaze keeps flitting over to me throughout the conversation. I sit and clench my empty glass tightly as I look at him. I don’t like what he did to Kara earlier tonight.

I knew Kara still had some unresolved feelings for him. I mean, how could she not? I was there when he broke her heart. I saw how devastated and heartbroken she was. How she never allowed herself to truly get over him. Lena and I have often teased her over the years about her lack of love life but we always knew it was because she hadn't moved on from James. I cannot believe he took advantage of her good nature to mess with her head like that.

It surprises me just how jealous I am at the thought of him kissing her, of her lips moving against his. I guess since my feelings for her have become more real I've become a bit possessive over her. A part of me feels like she is mine now, just as I am hers. Or rather, I want her to be mine.

And I want to punch anyone that makes a move on her.

The alcohol is not helping subdue my wrath on seeing his stupid satisfied face.

I think about the kiss I gave her before she left. I’m still not sure why I did that exactly. I had wanted her to forget about James. I wanted her to feel this _thing_ between us, and how good it could be. I wanted to remind her that I am here. And to remind James that she is with me.

I don't know what it is about her that makes me go kind of crazy. I’m not normally the jealous type. But there is just something about James that gets under my skin and grates on my nerves. Kara deserves a lot better than what that jerk gives her –has ever given her.

The world is spinning all around me. I decide I can't be near James without wanting to hit him –repeatedly. I feel the familiar pressure on my bladder and decide going to the bathroom is a better idea than getting in a fight with James. I somewhat unsteadily get up onto my feet and begin making my way to the back of the bar where the restrooms are located.

I see James give me one last angry look before I leave.

* * *

 

I bump into a solid figure on my way out of the men’s room.

“I’m sorry,” I say as I try to regain my balance.

“A broke artist being drunken mess, how quaint,” the person replies.

I look up to be met with James’s sneering face. I narrow my eyes at him and stand up straighter. “You’re so petty and pathetic,” I reply. “Who do you think you are? You have no business saying anything to me after what you did.”

“And what exactly is it that I’ve done now?” he asks with a smirk, looking like the cat that caught the canary. Too bad he can’t have her, she’s _my_ canary.

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” I say. “You had no right to kiss Kara.”

“She didn't seem to mind. She was happily kissing me back,” he says cockily.

My blood boils at his words. “She had to stop you! You took advantage of her! She came to me in tears after what you did!” The smirk on James’s face disappears and is quickly replaced by one of his signature angry glares. “I know you have enjoyed having her pine for you these last few years. It must have helped to boost your ridiculous male ego, having a wife at home and an ex still struggling to get over you. You must’ve relished in rubbing your so-called perfect life in her face. But it all stops now. You hear me? She’s moved on. She wants nothing to do with you anymore. She’s with _me_ now,” I hiss.

“Kara and I have history,” James retorts.

“History as in the Past. _I_ am her Present,” I point an accusing finger at him. “You should focus on your pregnant wife... I wonder how she would feel if she knew what you’ve done.”

He goes pale. Typical cheating asshole. Whatever he wants with Kara, of course he doesn’t want his wife to find out. I never thought I could feel this much hatred toward someone as I do now.

“Leave my wife out of this,” he growls.

“Leave my girlfriend out of this,” I bite back. I let out a small laugh in derision and shake my head. “And don't worry, I won't say anything to Lucy. I have more respect for her than you do, apparently,” I say coolly.

I see James deflate in relief. I, then, take a step towards him so I am standing right up in his face.

The alcohol has definitely made me bolder tonight.

“But, if you ever come near Kara again, I swear to the gods I will destroy you,” I warn.

James’s eyes widen at my words. I make a move past him and shove him with my shoulder, leaving him standing in the empty corridor.

I won’t lie, it feels good to call him out on all his crap. He’s treated Kara like shit for too long, and I won’t stand for it any minute longer. I hope now the jerk will finally just leave her alone.

And I can’t ignore the thrill I felt defending my “girlfriend”.


	11. That same night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara has a wild night out with the girls for the bachelorette party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone!  
> Wow, first of all, can I just say I'm flabbergasted by the love you're showing for this fic!  
> You guys are amazing, all your hits and comments and kudos mean the world to me!  
> Thank you so much for the support! :)
> 
> I have some bad news, though, I'm going away on holidays in ten days, and I won't be able to write or post anything.  
> The good news is, I'm gonna try to upload the last chapters before I go, because I'd hate to leave you guys hanging.  
> So expect faster updates from here until the end! 
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!

 

As soon as we get on board the limo, Lois cracks open a champagne bottle, toasting to _a perfect wedding._

For the first time since this whole ordeal began, I don’t mind her being such an exuberant bride. I, myself, feel like celebrating tonight. After all, I have plenty of reasons to.

I eagerly accept the glass Lois gives me, throw back its contents in one go and immediately search for another one.

Here’s to life… and the fact that I no longer have any feelings for one James Olsen! _Cheers_! 

Lena looks on at me amused. “What on Earth has gotten into you?” she asks with a smirk.

“What’s gotten into me, my friend, is that I no longer give a rat’s ass about James fucking Olsen!” I announce enthusiastically. “I don’t care what he does, I don’t care what he says. I don’t care about him, at all! I’m finally, completely and unquestionably, _over_ him.”

“Does this, by any chance, have anything to do with Mon-El kissing you like that just before we left?” Lena raises her eyebrows and smiles clearly pleased. “Which, to be honest, I didn’t need to witness.”

I nod my head in confirmation. “Yeah, I guess you can say Mon-El has everything to do with it.”

“Okay, whatever it is, I don’t really wanna know,” Lena responds and she flings her arms around me in a tight hug. “I’m just so happy for you! That jerk has haunted you long enough… it was about damn time you got rid of him.”

“We need to celebrate!” I exclaim while handing her a glass of champagne. “This is a life-altering moment!”

“To life-altering moments!” Lena says with her raised glass and clinks it against mine, before I down the entire contents in one gulp, yet again.

I can’t describe what it feels like to finally let go of something –someone– so toxic, have them out of your life, and be free of them. I feel a thousand pounds lighter, the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders.

“We are doing tequila shots once we get to the bar,” I announce loudly. “Lots and lots of tequila shots!”

Lena smiles wickedly at me. “Welcome back!” she announces. “After all these years of you hiding behind your work and closing yourself off, for these past few weeks, I feel like I finally have my best friend back. You know, the fun and bubbly Kara Danvers that I grew up with.”  

I smile, a big, happy, genuine smile. Lena is absolutely right. I have been a terrible friend for the last six years. I was always so busy with work, trying to work my way out of James Olsen, that I neglected my friends and family, living my life like a hermit. However, since I got my promotion and begun this whole fake-dating thing with Mon-El, I’ve put myself out there again. I’ve spent quality time with my friends. I’ve enjoyed myself and had fun. And I have Mon-El Gand to thank for all that.

I don’t plan on stopping now, I’ve got six years of wasted time I need to make up for. And I’m starting tonight.

I only wish Eve were here, too.

* * *

 

Lois has booked a private room in her favorite pub in town, weirdly called “The Alien Bar”. As soon as I step foot inside I understand the name. The bar is lit up with psychedelic neon and black lights that make everyone look alien-y. The man behind the counter, Kevin –I gather from his name tag–, even has a weird alien mask on his face, or at least I hope that’s a mask and not his real face. Despite my reservations, I find I like the place. It’s different and weird, but the nice kind of different and weird. And the best part, it has an open bar.

I fear that’s gonna be dangerous for me.

We are settled less than minute before a shirtless waiter covered in glow-in-the-dark body paint brings an ice bucket with a bottle of chilly champagne rosé. Lois squeals in delight as he comes through and thanks him generously as he fills the empty flutes on the table. She screeches again after ensuring everyone has one on their hands –except for Lois, who’s drinking exclusively club soda– and gestures for us all to take a sip, or a gulp. I must have had more alcohol than I realized because I find I am the first one to join in with her shrieking when she does.

It comes as no surprise that Lois is the first person to jump on top of the table to dance. She’s wearing a cheap plastic tiara and a fake veil, which she struggles to keep on her head, as she’s twerking to the rhythm of Miley Cyrus.

“Someone’s definitely getting the party started,” Alex says as she comes up to sit beside me and hands me another pink cocktail. I take the glass gratefully and take a sip as I watch Lois drop it like it’s hot.

“Well, someone had to,” I say with an amused grin. Alex grins, too.

“You seem inordinately joyous today,” Alex says and looks at me with a devilish smirk. “Has this got anything to do with Mon-El?”

“Of course not! You don't need a man to make you happy,” I reply nudging her in the ribs, but my mind inadvertently goes back to the image of Mon-El in his superhero costume from earlier.

Alex shrugs her shoulders, clearly not believing me. “Yeah, I do know that,” she replies, throwing a mischievous wink a Maggie from across the room. “But… I have a feeling we’ll be drinking at your own bachelorette party next.”

Luckily, I am saved from having to answer –and lie– to my sister, by the appearance of who clearly must be the stripper for tonight. The girls around me all holler in excitement as he makes his way to our table.

He’s –somewhat– keeping with the superhero theme. Who knew Lois Lane had a thing for Superman?

Aside from a red cape and boots, he’s only wearing a tiny-weeny blue speedo with the famous “S” right on his… yeah, _that_.

“Up, up, and away!” he purrs as he stalks his way over to the screaming bride.

Lois and Lucy shriek and bounce up and down on their chairs. He catches sight of Lois and winks seductively at her, before crouching over her legs, so she has a front seat view of the show.

I can only laugh at the scene unfolding before me.

Some cheesy sexy song starts to play and the stripper begins his scarce items of clothing while dancing seductively to the music and thrusting his male parts to her face. Nudity still makes me uncomfortable, although, now that I think about it, Mon-El’s nudity doesn’t seem to bother me as much. Anyhow, I spend most of the routine with my hands covering my eyes and praying for the whole thing to end.

Much to my disgust, Alex seems to be enjoying this way too much. Even Maggie seems to be into it. Unlike me, my sister has no inhibitions when it comes to sharing about her sex life. She shares way more than I care to know about her adventures in the sack. I really don't want to know about the latest sex-toy she has bought.

I guess I can sort of understand why the thought of Mon-El and I doing _it_ is so revolting to Lena.

Lois squeals in delight throughout the entire duration of his little exhibition, rubbing baby oil on the guy and stuffing dollar bills into his almost-not-there underwear. Another song starts and he immediately spots me hiding behind my hands in discomfort, and decides he is going to torture me. He struts his way sultrily towards me, swaying his hips and stopping in front of me so my face is in line with his crotch.

“Look who I found, the Supergirl to my Superman,” he asks thrusting his junk in my face.

_Ew_! I think to myself. Besides, if I remember correctly from Mon-El’s comic-book imparted wisdom, Supergirl is Superman’s cousin. I’m sorry, Mr. Stripper, but I don’t find incest that attractive.

Also, I’m more of a Valor fan.

The horrified look on my face must be hilarious, because all the other girls burst out laughing as he begins gyrating around me. I don't know where to look, or what to do. He surrounds me. I sit there stiff as a stick trying to think of a way out of this nightmare. I shoot a pleading look to both Lena and Alex but they both shake their heads at me and stuff some money into his underwear, tapping him on the ass to urge him on.

I hate them so much right now.  

The guy continues to dance around me enjoying the reaction he is getting out of me. I keep my eyes on my shoes the entire time until I can’t take it anymore and, the moment he turns around to show me his ass, I run towards the restrooms.

As I walk away I see the girls laughing even louder and Lois beckoning him to come back over to her.

Ugh, that was awful. And after getting a glimpse of Mon-El’s perfect derrière today, I can’t help but find the stripper’s severely lacking.

I sag relieved on a stool, as I wait for the worse to be over. Speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear; I check my phone to see a message from Mon-El.

_Mon-El: Did my plan work? Are you thinking about me?_

_Kara: The stripper just tried to give me a lap dance! I had to run to the restroom and hide! I would have much preferred if it had been you! xo_

_Mon-El: Who knows? The night’s still young. ;)_

Those glasses of pink champagne are definitely making me bolder. I can’t believe I’m actually text-flirting with Mon-El. His innuendo is not lost on me, and I can’t help but imagine what awaits me when I go back to the Kent residence.

After a while, I make my way out to rejoin our party, when I see the man is too busy getting more bills from the Lane sisters to notice me. I sit back on my chair and sigh in relief that his attentions have turned to somebody else. I give Alex and Lena an evil glare but both still find the whole situation hilarious, to my dismay.

He gives me one last wink before he ends his routine with a bow and retreats to a corner to pack up.  

Many of the girls, including Alex, stand chatting to him as he’s getting dressed. I shake my head at them. Guys like that do nothing for me. His blond hair and hazel eyes should be attractive to me, but they aren’t my type. Funny though,  I never thought of me as having a type before, but I think I’m more of dark hair and blue eyes kind of girl.

He comes over to me on his way out. “I hope you liked that special little dance I did for you,” he says with what I’m guessing is an attempt at a sexy cheeky grin. “It’s my special treatment only for special people.”

Ugh, does this guy know any word other than ‘special’? Why won’t he just leave already?

“Excuse my sister, she’s kind of a prude,” Alex replies for me as she joins my side. “Believe me, I’ve asked her countless of times how big her boyfriend’s dick is, to no avail.”

“Alex!” I yell deeply embarrassed. The stripper just laughs.

“It must be tiny, then,” he says leaning down to Alex with another cheeky grin.

I’ve had it with arrogant dude-bros and their infuriating male egos.

“Actually, it’s huge! And it’s also, none of your business!” I deadpan, hating this conversation and desperate for it to end. “Weren’t you leaving?”

He shrugs. “It was nice meeting you, lovely ladies.”

He gives me another stupid wink and smirk before hauling up his bag and walking out the door. Thank Rao that’s over. As soon as he leaves, I grab a shot of tequila to stop my skin from crawling as a result of that encounter.

With the stripper out the way, I begin to relax and really enjoy myself. For once, I don't care about how much I am drinking and the effect it’s going to have on me tomorrow morning.

You only live once, right?

* * *

 

As the night wears on, I begin to fully appreciate what I’ve been missing out on while being so busy working all the time. I laugh and dance and sing… and drink.

I realize how fun a night out can be, it’s not always about getting hit on by creepy guys just looking to get you on their bed for a one-night stand. You can just let go and be a little silly from time to time. It’s not the end of the world. It doesn’t negate the work I do, or suddenly turns me into a bad person.

As I ponder on my new found freedom, I get a bit angry at myself that I let James keep myself locked away for so long. I have wasted so much time, some of the best years of my life, hurting and pining over that guy. And he wasn’t worth it. He's a selfish asshole who thinks only about himself. I can’t berate myself enough for ever falling for that douche. I feel sorry for Lucy, in spite of the despicable thing she and James did to me, I feel nothing but pity; she doesn’t deserve a husband who clearly doesn’t care for her, nor for his children.

He even has the nerve to text me throughout the evening. I delete every single one of his messages without reading them, before finally deciding to just block him. He can’t have anything to say to me that’s worth my time. I carry on knocking back drink after drink and looking forward to a life where he is no longer a factor.

To my utter delight, Mon-El keeps on texting me, giving me his own play-by-play commentary of the boys’ night.

_Mon-El: Didn't realize Clark had a Wonder Woman fantasy! You should’ve seen the stripper whip him down with her lasso of truth! Lol._

_Mon-El: Can you believe there’s someone who’s a bigger light weight than you? Poor Pete passed out on the toilet!_

_Mon-El: Hey, you shouldn’t be embarrassed, okay? You are the most beautiful girl there. And don’t let anyone tell you differently._

Each time his name pops up on my screen my heart summersaults and I get a big smile on my face. We joke about how each of our evenings are going, with our spelling getting worse and worse as the night wears on. I check my phone every couple of minutes to see if he has replied. I feel like a silly teenager, waiting anxiously for my phone to give its signature _beep_. I laugh at a picture he sends me of him eating a massive hamburger, that thing must be the size of his head.

I wish he were here.

As the days drag on, I get more and more used to his company. And find myself, surprisingly, missing him when we’re apart.

However, I am not allowed to text Mon-El all night as Lois confiscates my phone declaring that there is a group ban on contacting spouses and/or boyfriends and that tonight is about us girls. I scowl at her, unhappy that she is interrupting my conversation with Mon-El. Alex is so lucky she gets to bring Maggie along.

I get over my annoyance quickly enough thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol I’m consuming. Much to my surprise, Lois joins by the bar for a little bit of girl bonding. We both sit on high stools, our eyes a little glazed and each with a cocktail in our hands. “I’m sorry about my skepticism over you and Mon-El,” she slurs. “I mean, I never thought… you and Mon-El Gand? He’s- he’s so _hot_!” She gets a far-off look on her face for a second and I shudder at the thought of Lois fantasizing about Mon-El. She quickly shakes it off, however, and finishes, “You guys look really happy together!”

I smile placing a hand on her shoulder. “That’s okay, I know it came as a bit of a shock for everyone,” I say accepting her drunk apology.

Lois places her hand over mine on her shoulder and sighs. “I admire you, you know?” she says and I raise an eyebrow questioningly. “I don’t know how you do it. How you manage to balance it all. With this whole wedding thing, I feel like my professional life has been placed on the back burner… I don’t know.”

“Hey, Clark loves you, all of you,” I say sympathetically. “And you’ll see, after the wedding is over, things will go back to normal, and you’ll go back to being your Pulitzer award winning reporter self.”

That is definitely the alcohol talking. I am not normally this complimentary to her. I think if the whole Lucy and James fiasco hadn’t happened, Lois and I would’ve been great friends.

We actually do have a lot in common.

“Thank you!” she declares. “You’re my favorite out of all of Clark’s cousins.”

“Shh! Alex might hear you!” I whisper conspiratorially.

We both fall into a fit of giggles as the full effects of the alcohol become evident.

“I’m really happy about you and Clark, by the way,” I tell her after we have finally stopped giggling. “You guys are perfect for each other.”

Lois gives me proud smile, and just then, Lucy comes up to us shaking a box covered in pink glitter.

“It’s time for the truth or truth game,” she announces. “Who’s going first?”

Lois claps her hands and jumps up excitedly. She pulls me off my stool and drags me back through to where the other girls are sitting. I groan. I had forgotten about this game. It essentially involves a garishly decorated box full of very personal questions. Yet another thing about tonight that is going to make me feel uncomfortable. Lois pulls me down to sit beside her as I have suddenly become her new best friend. Everyone has had a lot to drink by now and many sway in their seats.

This is going to be _fun_.

“I'll start!” Lois shrieks as she shoves a hand into the box. “Where is the kinkiest place you’ve had sex in?” she reads aloud after she has unfolded the bit of shiny pink paper. She considers her answer for less than a second before exclaiming, “The conference room at the Daily Planet.”

“You did not!” her sister says shocked.

“Oh, but I did… we did!” Lois giggles uncontrollably. “We were lucky no one UV’d those print layouts we had been discussing.”

I scrunch my nose in disgust. The most exciting place I ever had sex was, as Rachel Green would say, the foot of the bed. I would be too scared of being caught to actually enjoy the act itself if I did it somewhere public.

The other girls continue to gush about how scandalous this was and some share some of the unusual places they have also had sex in. I sit quietly as the box goes round. I am kind of shocked at how many scandalous stories there are. I am not a complete prude; I have heard Alex and Eve talk like this much too often. But these women look so innocent, I am shocked they are so naughty behind closed doors –even Lena. My sex life is very vanilla and very boring compared to theirs.

The pink-glitter box stops in my hands signaling is my turn to divulge a dirty truth. I dread thinking what I’ll have to reveal. I tentatively reach inside and grab a small piece of paper. I open it with trepidation as I read the words written there out loud. “How is your partner in bed?” I recite and groan internally.

I don’t enjoy talking about my sex life in a regular basis. Much less under these circumstances. Besides, they expect me to describe Mon-El’s sexual prowess, of which I have no idea.  They want to hear all about a mind-blowing sex life that I don’t even have. _Grife!_

They’re looking at me all eager in anticipation. Seemingly, they are all very curious and want to know about this –especially, Alex– so, I take a deep breath and focus. I focus on the image of Mon-El’s pert behind and naked chest I was privy to earlier, and begin talking without noticing.

“Mon-El is the most passionate person I know. And he likes surprises,” I begin, as I imagine Mon-El kissing me unexpectedly as I walk past him in our kitchen. “He likes to be spontaneous and taking me by surprise. He’d pounce on me, out of the blue, like a predator to its pray, hot and desperate, like he’s a starving dying animal and if he doesn’t have me, he’ll die.”

I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know where all this is coming from, but… the words just won’t stop spilling out of my mouth.

“He’s very handsy, he likes to run his hands over every inch of my body. And when he kisses me-” The rest of the room has gone silent. The girls stare at me with their mouths hanging open and, some of them visibly drooling. I think I’m saying all the right things they want to hear. I suddenly feel flustered and flushed, so I take another deep breath before continuing, “Oh, when he kisses me, he likes to tangle his hands in my hair, almost as if he’s afraid I’ll pull away too soon. He enjoys teasing me as he licks and kisses every nook and cranny of my skin. Sometimes we’re too impatient to wait, and it’s hot and hard and fast, but other times… he likes to take his time, and he’s slow and delicate and purposeful as he moves inside me. He’s the best sex I’ve ever had.”

At my declaration, Alex smirks in satisfaction. Lena grimaces in disgust. Lois gapes in surprise. And Lucy looks, thankfully, indifferent.

After I’ve had some time to digest what I have just said to say I’m shook would be an understatement. I swear I don't know what came over me. And I don’t care, because now I can’t stop picturing him doing all those things to me. I want his hands and his mouth worshipping my entire body. I want him on top of me, under me, all over me, buried deep inside. I imagine what he’s packing underneath those well fitted jeans and Calvin Klein tight boxers, and I become hot and bothered and desperate. I find myself suddenly aroused, in a way I haven’t been for a long time. And in that moment, I make two staggering discoveries:

Number one, I am attracted to Mon-El Gand. Yes, I admit it, I find him sexually attractive. And, two, I want to have sex with him. I wanna have sex with him as I have never desired sex with anyone before.

This realization shocks me to the core, but it is now the only thing that I can concentrate on. I am vaguely aware of the other girls asking more probing follow-up questions but I am so lost in my own fantasies of Mon-El taking me against the kitchen table at our loft that I can't answer. I smile politely at them and excuse myself, as I move to the exit in desperate need for some fresh air.

The cool breeze is very welcome on my overheated body as I burst outside, gasping for breath. I move to lean against a rail, which looks out over the street, as I try to figure out what was that all about. These thoughts are new and surprising, and also exhilarating. But this is Mon-El we’re talking about. How am I supposed to look him in the eyes when all I can do is picture him naked?

I feel beyond sexually frustrated at the moment that I half-groan, half-moan in despair. Even so, I don’t get much time to continue pondering over these alarming thoughts as Lena comes up beside me.

“Okay, now that was some really disturbing stuff right there,” she says. “I think you have every girl in that bar –including the bartender– wanting to sleep with my brother.”

I blush and laugh awkwardly, trying not to let on that I am currently the first one on that list. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Where did that even come from?” she asks looking at me questioningly with a raised eyebrow.

Even though Lena is my best friend and I hate lying to her, I can't tell her the truth. The whole thing is too weird. What would I even say? ‘ _Well, Lena, I’ve just found out that I want your brother to fuck me senseless_.’

_Ha_ , right.

“I just- I described the way I’d like to be treated. That’s all,” I reply, decidedly leaving out the part where it is only her brother who I want to treat me that way.

“Then, you really need to get laid, like yesterday,” she states. “And, please, can you not talk about having sex with my brother? I know it’s not happening, but still… I don’t need to hear it.”

I give her a weak smile. “Duly noted.”

Lena smiles in return. “I’m just glad it’s all fake,” she says, sounding relieved. “The thought of you, my best friend, having sex with my brother makes my skin scrawl. You’re like another sister to him, it’d be too weird.”

My weak smile turns even weaker –and faker. She can never know the kind of thoughts about her brother I have currently running through my head.

She leaves me to head back inside a few moments later, and I try to compose myself. But it’s useless. Mon-El continues to linger in my mind.

Deciding this is not the time to think about it, I return to the bar and drink more instead.

* * *

 

By the time I get back to the house it’s three-thirty in the morning, and I am still buzzing from all the alcohol I had. I stumble up to my room and almost fall through the door as I open it.

“Ouch!” I squeal as I stub my toe on the dresser. Unsteadily, I bend down to rub the pain away.

“Hey, you're back!” Mon-El exclaims cheerily while waving a bottle of what looks like Aldebaran rum in one hand. I can’t express how glad I am to see him... and minus a shirt, clad only in his boxers.

I see the bottle of my favorite brand of alcohol and immediately perk up at the sight. I remember the first time I got drunk… that _he_ got me drunk. It was my twenty-first birthday and he took me to our local liquor store to buy some alcohol using my newly valid ID. I paid for one bottle of the expensive rum –actually, he paid, I just handed the cashier his money– and we sat down on the sidewalk talking and drinking.

To this day, that bottle of Aldebaran rum has got to be one of the best birthday gifts I’ve ever gotten.

Any awkwardness I thought would occur when I saw Mon-El evaporates; I am too drunk to let the embarrassment of my fantasies about him bother me. I am happy, relaxed and in no mood to go to bed just yet.

More alcohol seems like the way to go.

More alcohol with Mon-El, even better.

“D’you have fun?” Mon-El asks, slightly slurring his words, as he sways on his feet. He’s obviously had a lot to drink as well.

“Surprisingly, yes!” I say playfully as I stalk towards him and grab the bottle out of his hand. I take a swig while staring at him challengingly. “But I think the real fun’s only just begun.”

He smirks back at me. “I like how your brain works, Miss Danvers,” he replies taking the bottle back from me and bounding to the bedside table where his iPhone is charging. “Let’s get our groove on, shall we?”

I admire his gorgeous otherworldly buttocks as he fiddles with his phone for a few moments, uttering a few swear words as he struggles to find the right song. I take off my boots and unclasp my cape as he, eventually, finds the song he is looking for, and The Backstreet Boys begins to blare out from his Bluetooth speaker.

“You’re kidding me!” I protest. “What are you, _eleven_?”

Mon-El just grins at me. “Come on,” he retorts. “This is a classic! I made no secret of my love for them in school. Besides, you’re only pissed because you’re more of an N’Sync kind of girl.”

I hate that he knows me so well. I, likewise, made no secret of my love for N’Sync and JT. Until this day I am heartbroken that JT and Britney broke up. _Ugh, my OTP._

“It’s a good thing you were insanely popular and attractive, otherwise people would have bullied the hell out of you,” I reply.

Mon-El raises his eyebrows at me. “So, you think I am insanely attractive?” he asks with a smirk.

“I- I didn’t mean… I just- oh, shut up!” I sputter unintelligibly. “Let’s dance!”

Why did I say that? I hope he is too drunk to remember what I’ve said tomorrow. Mon-El, thankfully, doesn’t push it and just shrugs his shoulders. “Your wish is my command,” he says jokingly, handing me the bottle back. I sigh, relieved I’ve gotten away with it for now, and take another swig. After I have finished, he sweeps me in his arms and begins twirling me around the room. “I owe you a lap dance.”

He sits me down on the bed and I stare dumbly as Mon-El –still wearing only those tight black boxers– starts dancing and singing along to the tunes that come out the system using my hairbrush as a mic. I smile when I hear N’Sync included on the playlist. He’s standing so close to me, his body hovering over mine, I fight the urge to stretch my hands and pull him on top of me.

I decide to join him and dance goofily along to our favorite 90’s boyband hits, before I do something I might regret in the morning.

We move closer to each other as the track list moves on, both of us there to catch each other if we stumble. After the third time Mon-El saves me from falling, I think about how it would feel to experience some of the things I was fantasizing about earlier. Alas, I am not bold enough to take that final step and make a move, so instead I just go back to dancing happily in his arms.

Our dancing gets sloppier and we get gigglier. Mon-El spins me out of his arms, but instead of twirling back to him, I go crashing onto the bed. I stretch out in it as I let another round of laughter overtake me. Mon-El chuckles and apologizes, before plopping down on the bed beside me. I turn on my side to face him, my hand under my cheek.

“I suppose this counts as good practice for tomorrow,” I chuckle as I move closer to him. Tomorrow we have the dance rehearsals for the wedding. Yet another thing not to look forward to.

Mon-El turns his head towards me with a funny look on his face. “What do you mean? We don’t need practice. We are awe and some!” he declares with a grin.

I smile back at him and find myself moving even closer to him and placing my head on his chest. This seems to be my default sleeping position as of late. His arms immediately go around me to pull me against him. I trace a lazy pattern just above his heart and enjoy the feel of his skin underneath my fingertips. We don't say anything, and I relish in the warmth he provides.

I snuggle closer to him. His hand strokes the top of my head. And I realize how content I feel in his arms. He taps lightly on top of head to get me to look up at him. I readily comply and am a little shocked at the intensity in his blue eyes. It feels magnetic as I find myself being drawn closer to his lips. My mind has lost all coherent thought and I don't try to second guess my actions when I press my lips against his in a searing goodnight kiss.

“G’night, Mon,” I whisper, already feeling myself slipping away.

I think he says something I don’t quite catch before sleep drags me under.


	12. Day 4: Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara and Mon-El go to the dance rehearsals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies!  
> Okay, so as you might notice, I changed the rating of this story. (You can guess what that means...)  
> Enjoy!

I slowly regain consciousness and find myself safely encased in a cocoon of warmth that makes me both relaxed and comforted. Fully aware that the world will spin out of its axis if I open my eyes at the moment, I decide to screw my eyes shut and snuggle back against the cocoon of warmth that surrounds me. Whatever this duvet is, it’s strong and firm and seems to burn right through me.

It is only when I feel something long and hard poking the back of my thigh that I become truly aware of my surroundings and the situation I’m currently stuck in. I reluctantly pry my eyes open and wait a second for the room to stop spinning. I twist my head around to spy the source of heat. My eyes meet a familiar sleeping face. My cocoon of warmth is not a duvet, but Mon-El’s body. And we’re spooning… me being the little spoon.

One look at his ridiculously sexy bed hair and last night comes flooding back all at once; the superheroes costumes, the unhealthy amounts of alcohol consumed, Mon-El’s little private dance for me, the both of us dancing and laughing… and first and foremost, all my fantasies involving a very naked Mon-El and what I’d wanted him to do to me.

I was shielded from feeling all the mortification and embarrassment by the alcohol overflowing in my veins, but now, in the light of day, it comes rushing to the fore.

I wanted to have sex with Mon-El Gand.

My brain rakes for a solution out of this predicament. His arms are currently wrapped around me in a tight embrace and our legs are tangled together underneath the sheets. I am still in my Supergirl blue corset and red mini skirt, and my back is pressed against his bare chest. I need to get away without waking him. I blush when I remember how desperate I was for him to take me in this very bed, how much I’d wanted to feel his naked body moving with mine.

 _Oh, Rao_. I am never going to be able to look him in the eye again.

Mon-El stirs beside me and I freeze, terrified that I am going to be caught in this position. However, he just inhales deeply on my neck and pulls me closer into his warm arms. I can still feel his hard-on against my ass. I should be mortified that I can feel his morning wood, but after my thoughts last night, who am I to judge?

His grip on me tightens and I don't see a way to extract myself unnoticed, so I just sink back into his body as I realize I don't have the energy to care at the moment. His steady heartbeat calms me and I soon find myself being lulled back to sleep by his soft breathing.

I doze for another hour or so, before I feel Mon-El stirring beside me. His grip around me loosens and he shifts to lie on his back. I am left cold and empty from the sudden loss of heat. He groans and rubs the sleep out of his eyes as he wakes.

“ _Grife_ ,” he moans. “I can’t remember the last time I’d had that much to drink.”

I turn to face him, propping my head up with an elbow, and give him a sympathetic smile. My head is pounding and every small movement makes my stomach churn, from the look on his face I can imagine he’s not feeling that much differently.

“I thought you were a professional drinker,” I tease. “That you never get hangover.”

“That’s an unfounded myth. You should know…” he replies. “Remember your twenty-first birthday?”

I smile in response. “Oh, yes. I can’t believe you got your hands on another bottle of Aldebaran rum.”

“You know me, I’ve got my ways,” he replies turning to face me. I try to ignore how attractive he is in the morning with his mussed locks and lopsided grin. “Um, did we really dance to The Backstreet Boys?”

“And don’t forget N’Sync, too,” I chortle. “Our moves were out of this world.”

I wait for him to bring up what happened after. How we stumbled onto bed, kissed goodnight, and fell asleep tangled together. I am still struggling to look at him without blushing furiously. I am terrified that he somehow read my thoughts and figured out what I’d wanted to do to him.

I don't really want to have that conversation, because I don't want to have to dissect what it all means.

Fortunately, it never comes.

Mon-El makes a soft noise and shakes his head. “Let’s consider it a good warm-up for today,” he retorts. “Although, to be honest, I don’t think I can dance one single twirl without throwing up on my shoes.”

I nod my head in agreement.

Lois has a waltz routine planned out for the bridal party to do at the wedding reception. The whole afternoon will be dedicated to dance rehearsals, so that we are all in perfect synchronization and don’t embarrass her on Friday evening. I can’t fathom how she could’ve thought twirling and spinning was a good idea the day after the bachelor and bachelorette parties.

My stomach is already protesting at the thought.

“Man, I reek of smoke and alcohol. I need a shower,” Mon-El sighs as he moves to a sitting position. He hangs his head inside his hands and takes a deep breath, before finally sitting upright. “Help me, Supergirl, the world’s spinning too fast.”

I’m still tense about my untoward naughty thoughts, so I give him a small smile in response, which he doesn’t see since I’m facing his back –his flawless muscly back. “Sorry, pal, you’re on your own.”

I’m still expecting with bated breath for him to bring up our shenanigans from last night, but he doesn't. He says nothing as he pushes himself off the bed and slowly makes his way to the bathroom, swaying slightly on his feet as he goes.

I watch him go, disbelieving but relieved that he has not brought up the elephant in the room. I decide to let it go for now, I certainly won’t be the one to bring it up. I let out a sigh of relief and sink back into the mattress. Maybe he doesn’t even remember… or he’s too embarrassed. Either way is fine by me. I don’t think I’m ready for that conversation. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for that conversation.

It’s for the best that he never knows about my fantasies of him.

Mon-El spends a long time in the shower, no doubt due to the fact any movement causes his world to spin –as does mine. Once he is showered and dressed he asks me if I want some breakfast. The green look on my face must be answer enough because he just chuckles and says, “Yeah, I can’t stomach any food either. How about just some strong coffee and an aspirin?”

“That’d be perfect,” I smile gratefully. “Thank you.”

I stay in bed a few minutes longer before reluctantly getting up and peeling off my wrinkled, smelly, stained costume.

I drag myself into the shower and savor the hot water as it hits my back. I drop my head back letting the water cascade over my face and relish the ability to cleanse myself from last night. However, as I begin to wash off the filth on my body, my mind inadvertently drifts to Mon-El, who only a few moments ago was standing naked underneath this same shower.

I think of water droplets dripping down from his tresses and into his gray-blue eyes. I savor the thought of his strong biceps tensing and relaxing as he lathers himself with soap. In my mind, he covers his entire body with soap including the hardness that I felt so pleasantly against me just earlier. A wetness, that has nothing to do with the shower, begins to pool between my legs and I drop my forehead against the shower wall, willing myself to think of anything else other than a very naked, very wet Mon-El Gand.

But, it's no use.

I think of the lake and that leads to Mon-El and I doing it in the beach. I think of CatCo, but that just leads to thoughts of Mon-El and I doing it in a supply closet. Anywhere, everywhere my mind goes, it inevitably ends up with Mon-El and I having sex. The throbbing between my legs intensifies and I shift about on my feet desperate to relieve the pressure but terrified of what it would mean if I do.

Eventually, I can take it no longer and dip my fingers into my slick folds. Being permanently single means I am well-rehearsed in the art of pleasuring myself. Normally, though, I imagine some faceless guy as I get myself off as quickly as possible but today I can't stop the thought of Mon-El thrusting into me as the water cascades around us and our moans bounce off the walls. I begin rubbing hard, quick circles and groan as pleasure takes over. I continue my ministrations as I imagine Mon-El sucking on my hardened nipple and I roll my breast in my hand as I do so. The ache in my belly grows as my orgasm builds. I am panting heavily, my spare hand now against the wall as I continue to work myself into a frenzy. I feel the coil begin to tighten and my fingers move faster as I head towards my release. I have to bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from screaming Mon-El’s name. “Mon-El…” I whisper instead, as I come hard, breathless and wobbly.

It takes about three point five seconds before the shame washes over me. My fantasies last night were bad enough, but now… I just got myself off to the thought of him. I can’t help the guilt that consumes me.

Lena is right, I need to get laid as soon as possible.

I turn off the water and grab a towel as I step out of the shower. One thing’s clear though, my attraction to Mon-El is not dependent on alcohol consumption. Sober and in the light of day, I still want him.

It has to be because I haven't gotten any in a while and it’s only natural that someone would develop these kind of thoughts while sharing a bed with an attractive member of the opposite sex. It's just lust. Nothing more. I’m a grown woman, not a horny teenager, and I can –and will– control my feelings around Mon-El. I won't think about him like that again.

I pull on jeans and a lacey top before heading down to the kitchen.

I will not let my thoughts about Mon-El Gand distract me any further.

* * *

 

I find Alex nursing her hangover in the kitchen with a cup of coffee. I grab my own mug of the brew and sit on a stool next to her.

“Where’s Mon-El?” I ask, having expected to find him here.

“He said he needed some fresh air,” Alex explains and then waves a medicine tablet on my face. “He left you some aspirin, though.”

I smile at his thoughtfulness, and take the pills from my sister. “Are you ready for today?” I ask sarcastically. Alex groans.

“Only the devil would think is a good idea to make us dance after last night!” Alex complains. “I think Lois might be the devil. You’ve just missed her as she came five minutes ago squealing all chirpy and requesting that we be ready by noon.”

“I can’t argue with that,” I reply while popping an aspiring capsule into my mouth.

Alex smiles. I smile back. We sit in a comfortable silence before Alex speaks again. “It was nice finally hearing you talk about Mon-El last night, I know I’ve teased you a lot about him, but it’s only because I wanted to be sure he treated you right. And from what I heard, he does,” she winks at me and then finishes, “I’m glad he makes you so happy.”

I drop my gaze ashamed as she says this. I don't need reminders of what I have been thinking about him. I avoid her gaze and murmur halfheartedly, “Yeah…”

“I’m also glad that you’re finally getting _some_ ,” Alex adds. “I was afraid of you growing cobwebs down there.”

I hit her playfully on the shoulder and she feigns being hurt. “Hey!”

“I’m sorry. I’m the protective older sister,” Alex replies. “It’s my job to worry about you, even your lack of a sex life.”

“Maybe,” I retort. “But it’s not your job to make crude remarks about my lady parts!”

Alex laughs. “Lady parts? Seriously? What are you, twelve?”

“Oh, shut up!” I shake my head at her and chuckle.

We chat for a few moments before my stomach starts gurgling for food. I regret refusing Mon-El’s offer to make me breakfast. Alex seems to notice as she points at a platter covered with a cloth on the counter behind us. “Mon-El left those for you.”

I remove the cloth to find a batch of fresh cinnamon rolls. It’s like he can read my mind –I just hope he can’t read my R rated thoughts about him.

I take a bite off one and moan loudly. They are delicious. That man sure knows how to spoil me.

As I finish my first roll and grab another, I think--

 _I could get used to this_.

* * *

 

Mon-El comes to collect me for the dance rehearsals. I decide to be mature and ignore the fact of how good his ass looks in the dark jeans he is wearing. I repeat my mantra in my head, over and over again, that I have my feelings under control.

 _I will_ not _think of him that way._

“How are you feeling?” he asks with his signature cheeky grin.

“Like I was dropped from a twenty-story building.”

Mon-El gives me a sympathetic smile that says he understands what I’m taking about. “At least you’re on the ground now,” he says with a smirk. “If I remember correctly, last night you were feeling floaty, but you were not floating…”

“I was sitting,” I finish his sentence as the memory resurfaces on my brain. I groan and cover my face with my hands in embarrassment.

Mon-El throws his head back and laughs. “Looks like it was a rough landing.”

I can’t help but laugh in return. At least it seems like he’s cured of his hangover. He’s back to his usual jokey, happy-go-lucky self as we walk hand in hand down to where my jeep is parked to drive to the rehearsal venue.

Lois has rented an actual ballet studio for the afternoon. We enter to find a room full of mirrors and hardwood floors. There are training bars on the side, and a chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling. The wooden floors are polished to the point that you can see your reflection in them. I only hope I don’t slip and all on them.

Lois has made it mandatory for every member of her bridal party, along with Clark's groomsmen, to participate in this dance with their partners. This means poor Mon-El has been forced to take part because of me. If our dancing last night is anything to go by, Lois may regret recruiting us after all.

Maggie is standing next to Alex, who gives me a pleading look but I just smirk back at her. Alex has compared dancing to getting her teeth and nails pulled out with chainsaw. I'm not going to save her this time. It’s payback for all her questions about Mon-El.

Mon-El and I chat with Clark's friend Pete while we wait for Lois to get ready. As has become the norm, we stand side by side with Mon-El's arm around my waist. While we are talking, I spy James sulk into the room closely followed by his wife. Clark greets him and begins waving his hands about as he tells James a fascinating story, I guess it’s about his bachelor party. James isn't paying attention though, as his dark eyes focus in on me. His stare bores right into me as he tries to communicate that he hasn't forgotten about what we did last night. I decide to ignore him and turn my attention away from him as I listen to Pete talk about his disastrous hangover from last night.

Mon-El notices him staring and presses a reassuring kiss on my temple. I am pleased that the day after I am still unaffected by James. The kiss meant nothing to me. I have finally realized how pathetic he really is, and if he thinks he has a chance with me again, he is an even bigger idiot than I previously thought. He can stare broodingly at me all he wants, it’s not going to get him anywhere.

Not long after, thankfully, Lois marches through and orders us all to gather round the center of the room.

“After our first dance as a married couple, you’re all to join us in the dance floor,” she explains. “We’ll be all performing a romantic routine for the rest of the guests.”  

“This will definitely be entertaining,” Mon-El whispers into my ear. I smirk but Lois catches me, and gives us an angry look for interrupting her speech.

“We’ll be doing a reenactment of the ballroom scene from the Disney movie ‘Enchanted’,” she adds. “So, channel all your inner princesses and princes, and feel the love tonight!”

“Wasn’t that from ‘The Lion King’?” Mon-El asks confused. I snort.

“Okay, everyone, get into a waltz stance and stand in position around Clark and me,” Lois demands.

I groan. This couldn't be much worse.

Mon-El and I are pushed to the edge of the circle by Lois as she forces us into hold. My left hand rests on his shoulder while he holds my right hand in his left. His left hand rests gingerly on my waist. Lois forces us closer together and I try and not let his proximity rattle me.

I thought wrong. This just got worse.

“I always knew I should’ve picked dance lessons over football back in school,” Mon-El jokes. “What use are tackling skills on a wedding?

His joke relaxes me and reminds me that things don't have to awkward between us. It’s all in my head. He’s been perfect so far, and has helped me survive every curve ball Lois has thrown at us at this wedding. I know if I forget about my not-so-innocent thoughts about Mon-El, I will have a good time and enjoy my time with him.

“Hold that thought, they might still come in handy.”

He laughs and goes to say something, but he’s cut short by the words coming out of the sound system.

_You're in my arms_   
_And all the world is calm_   
_The music playing on for only two_   
_So close together_   
_And when I'm with you_   
_So close to feeling alive…_

The music plays through and Lois starts barking orders for us to follow. Unexpectedly, Mon-El is actually pretty good at the whole waltzing thing, I, however, have two left feet and spend a large amount of time stepping his toes and causing us to crash into other couples as I forget to follow his lead and change direction.

“Oh, damn it, Lois! I really wanted to do this exact same routine at my own wedding, but you beat me to it,” Mon-El jokes during a break. “I guess now I’ll have to go back to my original plan and do the Macarena instead.”

Lois is currently putting Alex through her paces as she forces her to repeat the turn and drop section again and again. I see Maggie roll her eyes.

“You doing the Macarena has to be better than this,” I reply with a grin.

Mon-El chuckles but stops short when he catches sight of someone over my shoulder. I twist my neck to see who he’s looking at and catch James still staring at me. I shake my head and turn back to Mon-El, deciding that ignoring James is the best course of action. Though, when I turn around I see Mon-El's jaw tense and his eyes filled with anger as he continues to glare back at James. “He has some nerve,” Mon-El says through gritted teeth. “He’s been staring at you all afternoon.”

“Just ignore him. I am,” I reply. “He’s not worth it.”

Mon-El flicks his eyes back to me and relaxes when he sees my calm state. He nods his head and gets back up as Lois calls us all to attention again. He offers me his hand to help me stand as we make our way back to position. We pass James and Lucy on the way and James bumps into Mon-El purposefully.

“Oh, sorry, Gand,” James says coldly. “I didn’t see you there.” 

Mon-El to his credit doesn't take the bait and smiles saccharinely back at him. “That’s okay, Olsen. I guess I’ll have to add invisibility to my long list of superpowers.” 

James frowns at the unexpected response and turns quickly to march back to his spot. I grab Mon-El's hand and drag him to our own place on the dance floor. James is acting like a petulant child. I can't say that I'm surprised. I’m proud of Mon-El, though, for acting mature and not being dragged into his game. I don't want any more drama.

“Hurry up, people! We don't have much time left!” Lois declares. Her eyes are trained on Mon-El and me, glaring at us the entire time she says this. Mon-El and I just shake our heads. She’s acting like this is the finale of _Dancing with the stars_ , not just some silly dance at a wedding. 

_So close to reaching_   
_That famous happy end_   
_Almost believing_   
_This one's not pretend_   
_And now you're beside me_   
_And look how far we've come_   
_So far we are so close…_

My dancing doesn’t improve after the break. We lose each other after a rotation and change of partners and I end up whacking Mon-El in the face with my ponytail after a turn to return to his arms. After about twenty minutes, we end up giving up and spend the rest of the time laughing and giggling at every wrong move and stubbed toe. Lois stares at us clearly annoyed, after every time we force the routine to stop after messing up. However, one look at her face, scrunched up in anger, and we just burst into laughter again.

“This may be a joke to you two,” Lois yells at us. “But this is _my_ wedding! Do you want to ruin the best day of my life?”

Her overdramatic display does nothing to help our mirth, and we fall into a fit of giggles, yet again. We both clutch our sides from laughter as she continues to stare us down disapprovingly.

“You’d better get this right, or so help me…” she commands.

We both take a deep breath to compose ourselves and nod our heads in agreement. I suppose if we do as she says maybe this will be over more quickly. She puts us back in hold and talks us through the steps as the music starts up again. Lois is taking it very seriously and Mon-El and I keep sharing amused smiles and holding back our chuckles as she orders us around. Eventually, she deems our dancing passable and she goes back to Clark so we can have one final run through.

_Oh, how could I face the faceless days_   
_If I should lose you now?_

This time Mon-El and I remember all the steps in the right order, since I find it easier now to let myself be led by him, and Lois jumps up in excitement that the dance has finally come together. She goes round congratulating everyone on their dance abilities and thanking them for going along with her plan.

She ignores Mon-El and me.

* * *

 

We head out to the parking lot and get into the car, making the short drive back to the Kents’ farm.

“Oh, well… it looks like my little bonding with Lois last night was a waste of time,” I say as we walk up the driveway.

“You two actually bonded last night?” Mon-El teases. “I would’ve loved to have seen that.”

I thump him in the arm. “As you well know, I was heavily intoxicated last night,” I respond. “I can’t be held responsible for my actions. And to answer your question, we bonded over you… she thinks you’re hot.”

“Ooh, she does now, doesn’t she?” he says with a smug grin. “Good to know.”

“Oh, come on,” I reply. “Lois would walk all over you. You are too nice for women like that.”

Mon-El grins as we reach the porch steps. “Haven’t I told you that I really like strong, independent women?” he states leaning into me, his nose inches from my own.

I almost forget how to breathe as he moves in closer to me, his sapphire eyes piercing into my own baby blues. I can feel his breath tickling my skin. My mind betrays me again as I think about Mon-El pushing me up against the door and taking me right here, right now.

However, I am snapped out of my daze by the sound of someone opening the door hard enough that hits the wall with a slam. I snap my head back as I catch sight of Lena making her way over to us. She gives me a confused look as she approaches.

Mon-El turns to greet his sister. “Hi, lil’ sis!” he exclaims flinging an arm around her shoulder. “You’re lucky you don’t have to humiliate yourself in that manner, I almost didn't think I would make it out of there alive.”

Lena grins at her brother but looks strangely between Mon-El and I. “I’m glad you made it out in one piece,” Lena replies. “I’d miss having my favorite obnoxious brother around.”

Mon-El grins happily at his sister. “Aw, don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere,” he replies while squeezing her to his side. “What are you doing here, by the way?”

“Well, I thought I’d come by to see how my best friend is doing,” Lena says with a weird look on her eyes. “After all, I know how much Kara hates dancing.”

Mon-El gazes down at her. “Oh, sounds like private girls' time to me. I’ll leave you to it, then,” Mon-El says cheerily before turning to go back into the house to get some rest. “I’ll try to sleep off the rest of this hangover. See you later, ladies.”

Once he is out of earshot Lena turns to me and looks at me expectedly. “What the hell is going on between you and my brother?” she demands.

“Where is this coming from, Lena?” I reply, instantly defensive. “You know there’s nothing going on between us! It’s all pretend!”

“Are you sure about that?” she questions me with a perfectly raised eyebrow. “I don’t know what to believe anymore, the two of you have been too convincing for your own good. I mean, all the flirting, and the kissing… I don’t even want to know what I’ve just walked in on. You two looked like you were about to kiss, with no one around! Come on, Kara, you can cut the sexual tension with a knife!”

I blush at the fact she has noticed some of the sexual tension that has arisen, especially after my thoughts last night. I don't want to lie to her. I am already lying to so many people and I can't lie to one more person. Plus, it might help to get it out of my chest. 

“Okay, okay!” I admit and take a deep breath trying to be cool about it. “Maybe, perhaps, I might've gotten some small tiny, eety, beety, teeny, weeny sexual thoughts involving your brother.”

Lena's eyes widen in shock. “What type of sexual thoughts?” she asks.

“You know… him and me… the usual sexual fantasies,” I reply not really wanting to go into details. “But, look, it’s fine, I swear! I’m not going to act on them. I wouldn’t. I’m just going through a bit of a dry spell, and Mon-El just… he’s sexy and he’s here, and I just…”

“Ugh, that’s disgusting!” Lena cuts me off and hides her head in her hands. “This is Mon-El you’re talking about, Kara. He’s my _brother_! How can you even think about him that way?”

“Well, he is! He’s an attractive guy,” I reply sincerely. “You must know that. Besides, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s not like I have an array of single attractive men to fantasize about.”

Lena shakes her head at me. “Are you sure that’s all there is to it?” she asks seriously. “I haven’t seen you like this, Kara, and I’m not used to it. You’re all happy and affectionate, and you light up around him. You were never like this before, not even with James. Be honest, is there absolutely nothing else going on between you?”

I nod my head. “Yes, I’m sure, Lena. I don't have those types of feelings for him,” I reply feeling somewhat guilty but not knowing why. “Whatever I’m feeling, it's purely physical… I’ll get over it.”

Lena looks at me unconvinced but doesn't push me any further. She, thankfully, drops the subject and suggests we go out for a walk along the fields to get some fresh air. I gladly agree and follow her down the path.

I’m baffled by her little sort of shovel talk. I don’t know where or how she got that idea.

I couldn’t possibly have those feelings for him.

_I don’t._


	13. Day 5: Thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rehearsal dinner is here... and one more final game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys!  
> Sorry for the delay, but this chapter got away from me and turned out longer than usual!  
> Without further ado, enjoy!!!

It’s Thursday morning. Mon-El and I rise at the same time, our body-clocks seemingly in sync. Today is a busy day, jammed packed with a brunch outdoors, the rehearsal dinner, and some fun quiz competition afterwards. On the bright side, today is the final day of pre-wedding activities, since the ceremony is tomorrow and that means this whole circus will be over.

On the not-so-bright side, after this weekend I’ll have to go back to my normal routine. I watch Mon-El get out of bed shirtless and with his messy hair that I adore, and an inexplicable bout of sadness hits me like a pang on the chest. I’ve gotten so used to being around him, now I don’t want to be without him.

_I don’t want to lose him._

Once we are both showered and dressed, Mon-El grabs his sketch book and looks at me challengingly. “C’mon, I'm teaching you how to draw today,” he announces with a grin.

I roll my eyes. “Oh no, remember your tenth birthday?” I reply. “The last time I attempted to draw something for you, you said a blind dog could do a better job.”

Mon-El smiles at the memory. “Um, yes, but that was before you had any of my expert tutelage,” he says teasingly. “And just between you and me, that drawing of us three is my favorite piece of art of all time. I keep it ‘til this day.”

“No, you don’t!” I scoff. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I would never lie to you, Kara,” Mon-El says, the honesty in his voice takes me aback. A pained look crosses his face but it’s promptly replaced but his pouty puppy dog stare. His eyes are more molten gray than sapphire blue and, for whatever reason, I can tell he truly wants to this for me. I nod my head reluctantly in agreement. The massive grin that appears on his face gets rid of my apprehension and makes my heart flutter with excitement.

He takes my hand and bounds down the stairs eager to share his wisdom with me, and making it hard for me to follow his fast pace. Nevertheless, his enthusiasm is infectious, and I can’t help but to look forward to spending all day with him.

Mon-El seems to have already picked the perfect place for sketching. He drags me to our favorite site by the pier and plops down on his Adirondack chair as I sit on mine. He hands me a pad and pencil after I’m settled. We sit with our backs to the lake and overlooking the wild grounds, with the farm house and the barn seeming too small on the distance.

I instantly know why he chose this spot.

The house is just to the left with the blowing wheat fields in the center. The image is framed on the right by the looping tree line of the forest. The contrast of the manmade structure against the wilderness of the forest paired with the untamed blades of wheat flowing in the wind and the sun shining in the distance creates a striking picture. I’m in awe of his ability to find the most beautiful images out of the most ordinary things people tend to ignore.

Mon-El catches me staring and grins.

“Let’s start outlining the barn, okay?” Mon-El begins. “You just need to draw a bunch of straight lines.”

I heave my eyes from the view and sigh as I look down at the pad. The blank page is intimidating. Empty with infinite possibility. Where do I even begin?

Mon-El grabs my elbow and guides me to sit on his lap. His body and hand engulfs mine as he shows me where to start drawing, and I finally commit pencil to paper. He is patient with me as he shows me where to put pencil marks and to include shading. There is a lot of erasing and re-doing the lines and, in normal circumstances, I would’ve been frustrated and had given up by now, but with Mon-El's steady presence behind me and his encouraging remarks, I just relax and let myself enjoy the fact I am actually sketching with him.

Even with his guidance, I know the picture is bad. The wheat field is just an awful mess of childish scribbles and the barn is so horribly out of proportion and askew that I can’t make sense of it even when tilting my head. I put my pencil down to look at the finished product but, as soon as I catch sight of Mon-El's amused grin, we both burst out laughing. 

“Well, that’s definitely an improvement over your portrait of us and Lena,” he laughs. I elbow him in the ribs. Mon-El clutches his side in mock pain.

“At least this time you can tell that’s the sun,” I declare pointing at horizon on my sketch. “And not some weird floating fried egg.”

Mon-El flashes me another grin. “You’re right. Although, if you add a splash of color, I think you can sell it as abstract art.”

“You’re the expert, after all,” I say. Mon-El chuckles, and I feel the reverberations on my back.

“Come,” Mon-El shakes his head and kisses my temple before flipping the cover of the sketchpad shut and signaling for me to stand up. He keeps his hands on my waist as he gets up after me, and then offers me one to take, which I do eagerly. “I guess we’ll just leave me to be the creative one in our relationship while you do all the heavy-lifting.”

I laugh, trying to hide how my heart flutters at the words ‘our relationship’.

I interlock our fingers together and we make our way back to the house to prepare for the brunch that will start shortly.

* * *

 

There’s a large area of the back field reserved for this event. Large round tables with white clothes and tall flowery centerpieces occupy most of the space. On one side, there’s a long buffet filled with an assorted variety of brunch food. There’s even pancakes smothered in caramel syrup and bacon.

My eyes bug out comically as I pile my plate sky high with as much food as I can. Mon-El watches me and shakes his head. “

“You’d think the end of the world is coming by how you inhale food,” he says.

“You never know,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders as I pick up a delicious looking Danish pastry.

Mon-El grins as he finishes topping up his own plate of pancakes with more bacon –that I’m already planning on stealing from him later. Deciding I finally have enough to satisfy my appetite, I turn and place my free arm around Mon-El's waist as we make our way to our seats. I peek a look at Mon-El as he launches into conversation with J’onn J’onzz who is sitting next to him in our table. I tuck greedily into my mountain of food. My ears perk up when I hear about J’onn saying he’s interested in Mon-El’s paintings. By the sounds of it, Mon-El has been discussing his art with J’onn all throughout this week, after their conversation that first night at the cocktail reception. 

“The sketches you showed me were amazing!” J’onn exclaims. “I know they’re just rough examples, but the detail was extraordinary!”

“My idea is to commit them into large scale and full-color,” Mon-El replies earnestly.

“Well, I can't think of anyone better to adorn my office walls,” J’onn replies. “I would like to commission three paintings from you, to start, for now.”

I can't help but smile with him, when the biggest, most genuine grin appears on Mon-El's face. He’s so beautiful when he smiles. I mean, he’s always attractive, but when he smiles it’s another thing entirely. His smile reaches up to his eyes, which sparkle like precious gems.

“Yes, I’d love to!” Mon-El replies enthusiastically.

J’onn gives him a warm smile. “Call my secretary on Monday. We can arrange a meeting to talk numbers,” he says.

Mon-El nods his head eagerly and their conversation winds down to a natural close.

As Mon-El turns back to me I squeeze his hand in congratulations. I feel an incredible sense of pride overwhelm me, I’m so happy for him and that he’s pulled this deal off. Mon-El’s grin seems to get impossibly wider and takes on his entire face.

“I’m truly happy for you, Mon,” I say genuinely pleased for him. “I guess something good has come out of my dragging you to this wedding.”

Mon-El exhales and chuckles. “Yeah, I never thought I’d say this, but thank you for bringing me here, Kara,” he replies exuding happiness. “To be honest with you, I was starting to get worried. Things have been hard for the past couple of months, I had to seriously consider giving up on my painting. This has given me hope, and I can never repay you for that. This what I needed to get back on my feet again.”

I can hear the relief in his voice, which means things must had been worse for him than he let on. This doesn’t surprise me, that he kept that to himself, I’m sure he didn’t want to worry Lena and me. What does surprise me is the bout of sadness I feel at his last comment. It catches me completely off guard.

He’s right, though. With the money from this commission, he’ll be able to get his own place and get back on his feet. He will move out. He will leave me.

My disappointment at this fact hits me hard. I’ve gotten so used to him being there, cooking in our kitchen, sitting on our couch, just waiting for me when I get home.

It will be strange not having him around. And I can't deny it, I will miss him.

I give him a small smile trying to hide my disappointment. This is good news for him. I _am_ happy for him. I should celebrate with him.

I quickly push my feelings aside and join in with the rest of the conversation at the table. Mon-El is, of course, leading the conversation with his self-depreciating jokes and amusing anecdotes. I smile along with them and I move in closer to Mon-El as the conversation goes on, relishing his company for as long as I can.

By the time the plates have cleared as have most of the guests, I am pressed so close to him that I am practically sitting on his lap with my head on his shoulder. He has a protective arm wrapped around my waist and has been rubbing soothing circles on my back for the last fifteen minutes. I pretend that I don't know what has made me become so comfortable with these intimate gestures.

Somewhere deep inside of me, I know it has a lot to do with the man beside me. However, I'm not ready to question what that means, so instead I just quash down those thoughts and enjoy the warm feeling that washes over me whenever he is near.

As the brunch is winding down, Dad comes over and takes a seat in the empty chair that J’onn has just vacated. He smiles at the sight of Mon-El and I snuggled together. “I’d been looking forward to spending more time with my daughter at this wedding,” Dad announces with a mischievous grin. “But I can see that she’s been taken up by you, Mon-El!”

Mon-El pretends to look chagrined and pushes me off him and towards my dad. “I apologize, Jeremiah,” he replies jokingly. “She’s all yours from now on.”

Dad chuckles. “You can keep her, son,” he laughs. “It’s the first time I’ve seen my daughter so happy. I wouldn’t do anything to prevent that. I can only thank you for putting such a bright smile on my little girl’s face.”

I can tell my dad is being serious now. He is genuinely happy for me. He believes I finally found someone that I love and who loves me back. He thinks I’ve found my happily ever after. I can’t help the same that floods me at my lying to my family so easily. I don't know how I will ever be able to admit to them that it’s all an act.

Mon-El responds by pulling me closer and turning to look in my eyes. He brushes a strand of hair off my face and his hand trails down my cheek, then down my neck, before his fingertips lightly brush my exposed collar bone. His grayish blue eyes stare down at me with a serious intensity that makes the tiny hairs on my arms stand on end.

“I’d never do anything to hurt her,” he states with such naked sincerity that I almost believe him. “All I want is to make her happy, fill every minute of her life with joy.”

My baby blue eyes fix onto his and, without thought, I reach to cup his cheek and lock him in place. We smile softly back at each other, both of us perfectly content.

I silence all the thoughts cursing through my brain, and just enjoy being in his arms for the moment.

I am broken out of my trance by the sound of Dad clearing his throat. “Well, I'm glad to hear that, and I’m really happy for the both of you,” my dad says with a smile. “Oh, and don’t be afraid about giving me some grandchildren soon. I wanna be a cool grandpa, so the sooner the better!”

I blush at his comment while Mon-El chuckles and gives my waist a gentle squeeze.

“I wouldn’t hold my breath just yet, Dad. I can’t take care of a plant, how would I take care of a baby?” I say trying to joke the comment off.

“Don’t worry, babe,” Mon-El chimes in. “I’m great with kids!”

Dad lets out a hearty laugh before he and Mon-El begin talking about random things, like sports and such. I try to join in but my mind can’t stop drifting off to the image of Mon-El playing with a small dark haired, blue eyed child, who looks just like him.

I already know for sure that Mon-El will make a great father. He is the most patient and caring man I know. During our senior year in high-school I remember he’d volunteer to teach the kindergarteners how to draw and finger-paint. He’d get down on his hands and knees to splash on the floor with them. I swear he’d always come out messier than any of the children. I can picture him already with a little girl of his own; creative, caring and charming, just like her Dad. Everyone –including me– would fawn over the sweet and adorable tiny person, and I bet she’d have Mon-El twisted around her little finger. I know would give his daughter the sun, the moon and the stars if she asked.

Suddenly, I become desperate for Mon-El to have that. I know he wants kids someday. And I want him to have everything he’s ever wanted and more.

I shake my head to get rid of these thoughts. I don't know what’s come over me today. I don't know why I am thinking about Mon-El’s child or why I feel so disappointed about him leaving our home.

These things shouldn’t concern me.

* * *

 

As we get ready to attend the rehearsal dinner, I’m twitching with nervous anticipation. I'm not that concerned about the dinner itself, Mon-El and I have got pretty good at handling these situations, but I am nervous about the quiz game Lois has planned for afterwards.

To close on the pre-wedding festivities, Lois has organized a competition to test everyone’s knowledge of their significant other. And well, I am terrified. If there’s a way to blow our cover, it is definitely this. I mean, we’re not even a real couple. We don’t know any deep couply things about each other.

I don’t see how we can bluff our way out of this one.

I’m so worked up about it that my hands are shaking uncontrollably, making me jab myself countless times in the eye with my mascara wand. Mon-El senses my anxiety and apprehension, and moves behind me after finishing his tie knot. He places his hands on my shoulders soothingly, and gives them a gentle squeeze, before turning me around and looking me straight in the eye.

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine. If anything, this is gonna be the easiest part for us,” he says trying to reassure me, and unfortunately, failing miserably.

“How can you say that?” I cry outraged. “We’re not even a real couple!”

“Because I know you, Kara. And we know everything there is to know about each other,” he stresses. “We grew up together, you practically lived at our house. Do you really think we can’t pull this off?”

I see such strength and calmness in his eyes, I instantly relax and release all the tension in my shoulders. “I guess you’re right,” I mumble.

Mon-El tilts his head to the side and raises his eyebrows at me. “You guess?” he says tickling and getting me to lift my sour mood. “You know I’m right. Kara, none of those couples have known each other for as long as we’ve know each other. Trust me, we have the biggest advantage.”

I nod my head tersely, finally acknowledging that he is probably right. I stand up to smooth out the navy blue dress I am wearing. Mon-El is wearing a matching tie of the same color –loving the way it brings out his eyes– but it’s slightly crooked. I reach up to straighten it out and run my finger down the lapel of his pale gray suit jacket after I’m done adjusting it. My fingers linger a while on the spot above his heart. I can feel the steady rhythm beneath the palm of my hand. I snap my head up to be met with his sapphire eyes boring into my own. He watches me carefully, unmoving, as if holding his breath.

“It’s show time, then,” I say softly.

We stare at each other for a few moments, neither of us making a move. My heart seems to be pounding like a hammer inside my chest. I get that irresistible urge to kiss him again. His lips look so inviting. My tongue darts out to wet my lips in preparation.

However, before I can do anything else, Mon-El breaks the silence and reaches for my hand. “We can’t be late.”

I take a deep breath to calm myself and smile in response. “Let’s go get’em, partner,” I say with a grin. Mon-El returns it and with that the tension is lifted and we make our way down to dinner.

* * *

 

The huge white tent erected to hold the reception will serve as tonight’s venue for the rehearsal dinner. Clark and Lois greets us cheerfully as we enter.

“I look forward to see how you guys do at the quiz tonight,” Lois says too sweetly. “It doesn’t matter how fresh your relationship is, but how well you communicate with each other.”

Oh, there it is. The awaited thinly veiled insult.

I give her a forced smile. “Oh, you shouldn’t worry about us,” I reply. “We’ve got almost twenty-five years’ worth of knowledge on each other. I think we’ll be okay.”

Lois screws up her eyebrows at my response. She clearly didn't like my answer. Clark shakes his head –half amused, half disapproving– at his soon to be wife. “It’s supposed to be just a bit of fun, Lois,” he says squeezing her waist. “It’s not the end of the world.”

She turns to him clearly appalled. “Do you have any idea how mortifying it would be to lose the Know-Your-Partner quiz… at our own wedding?”

Mon-El and I give Clark a sympathetic look and we both slip away unnoticed as she carries on and on.

As we leave Lois, Alex spots us and makes a beeline for us, dragging Maggie behind her.

“Hi, guys! You sure look dapper this evening,” Maggie exclaims and then whispers conspiratorially to us, “Do you know Alex is already planning your wedding?”

Mon-El and I both chuckle as Alex beams up at her. “I think she should plan yours first,” Mon-El winks at my sister and we all laugh.

During the dinner Alex leans over to me. “What do you think?” she asks nodding her head towards Maggie, who is currently getting more drinks for us with Mon-El.

“About?” I ask.

“About what Mon-El said,” she explains. “Do you think I should do it?”

My sister’s words finally catch up with me. “Are you thinking of proposing?” I question incredulously.

Alex blushes and looks down. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “This week, seeing Clark and Lois getting married, and seeing you so beyond happy with Mon-El, made me realize how much I love her, and how I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

“Then, never let her go,” I reply. I feel extremely happy for my sister, but there’s a part of me that feels like something’s missing.

“Get ready, though,” she teases. “You’ll have to be my maid of honor.”

I groan loudly making us both laugh, as our dates return with our drinks in their hands.

* * *

 

After some never-ending speeches from Aunt Martha, Clark, Lois, James and Lucy the dinner part of the evening ends, and the tables are soon cleared away ready for the quiz game.

Lois has arranged for all guests not taking part in the quiz to sit and watch as the competing couples are placed on high stools and quizzed about what their partner's favorite color is and how old they were when they had their first kiss.

Mon-El is waiting for me when I arrive back from retouching my make-up, and he places a kiss on my temple as I put my arm around his waist. “Remember, you have nothing to worry about,” he whispers into my ear. “We know _everything_ about each other.”

I nod my head and let Mon-El walk me up to our center stage seats. Mon-El gives my hand a reassuring squeeze before he sits down beside me.

The game works by each of us taking turns in being asked a question about the other. The other person has to write down the correct answer on a small white board, while the one answering has to make their guess verbally. The couple gets a point for every answer that matches. Each team is first put through a quick fire round of ten questions, and then, the two couples that get the most points go head-to-head in a final sudden-death round for the win.

The questions start out easy enough.

I get asked what Mon-El favorite color is –red– and he gets asked what my favorite food is –he answers easily: potstickers. However, the questions get progressively harder as the game goes on. Like, what was my college GPA? And, what age was Mon-El when he started shaving?

I’m actually surprised by how much I truly know about Mon-El –and vice versa. I answer all of my questions fairly quickly, without having to think too hard. I guess I did pick up some things after all, spending so much time at Mon-El and Lena’s house growing up.

After the first round of questioning, Mon-El and I get only one question wrong –well, I do; he gets all of his right– which puts us in second place behind Clark and Lois with a perfect score. I relax, satisfied with our results. Even if we don’t get to the final round, nobody would suspect we’re not a real couple.

Maggie and Alex score just one point behind us, after each one missed a question. I am embarrassedly pleased to see that James and Lucy only score five points, and can't hide my smirk as they walk past us. James can be pretty competitive and the glare he gives Mon-El and I tells me he doesn't like being beaten. _Well, boo hoo._

I am glad that he hasn’t tried to confront me about the kiss. He hasn’t even try to come near me, thankfully. Apparently, that slap I gave him seems to have gotten through to him that there will never be anything more between us. I hope for his twins’ sake he can get his act together and be there for his wife and kids.

The quick-fire rounds are over, and Mon-El and I remain in second place, meaning we have to go head to head with Clark and Lois. Mon-El pulls me up onto the stage and we take a seat opposite them.

J’onn has been running the show tonight and, once we are settled, he announces how the sudden-death round will work. “Ladies and gentleman, I am delighted to bring you the final round of the Know-Your-Partner Quiz™! One question is all that separates Kara and Mon-El or Clark and Lois from winning this fabulous trophy!” J’onn announces while gesturing to a misshapen wooden thing, which bears more resemblance to a deformed tiki statue than a competition trophy.

“The rules of sudden-death are simple,” J’onn continues. “Each couple will choose a participant to represent them in answering one final question. Their other half will have write down the correct answer in the white board, as we’ve been doing. Whichever couple matches in their answer will be the winner and have proven to the world how well they know one another. Let the best couple win!!!”

I decide to let Mon-El answer the final question, since he’s guessed them all correctly so far. Lois chooses Clark, too, but I’m guessing more in a way of challenging us. I take a deep breath. One more question and the game finishes, getting me one step closer to this weekend being done and over with.

“Gentlemen, listen up!” J’onn calls to the guys’ attention. “The final question is: what’s been your partner’s favorite day in their life so far?”  

Mon-El and Clark get time to think as Lois and I get one minute to write down our answers. Lois is scribbling furiously and I know I should be doing the same, but I can’t think of anything, yet.

I catch Mon-El’s eyes staring intently at me, and instantly, one day comes to my mind: my first published article. After putting up with Snapper Carr for over a year, and getting article after article rejected and thrown to my face, I finally caught the break I was waiting for. I managed to uncover the crime story of the century. An illegal underground fight club, with high-influence millionaires and government officials as its VIP clientele. The members were forced to fight in order to pay for their debts or to avoid prison. To this day I still feel a buzz whenever an article of mine gets published, to see my name written on the byline, to know I’m making the world a better place by searching for the truth… but not one compares to the thrill I felt that first time.

I sigh before committing my black marker to the board. That is without a doubt my favorite day, but I don't think Mon-El would know that. I don't even know what his favorite day is, so why would he know mine? I briefly consider putting something else, something he might think of, but decide against it.

Winning doesn't matter that much to me anyways.

I write my answer and put my marker and board down signaling I am done. J’onn looks at me for confirmation and I nod. Across from me, Lois does the same.

“Okay, gentlemen. Let's hear your answers!” J’onn exclaims. “Clark, you go first. What is Lois's favorite day?”

Clark looks a bit nervous and flashes a glance at Lois. She stares back at him in expectation, urging him to answer as she clutches the board tightly to her chest. “The day she won the Pulitzer?” Clark answers, trying to sound confident in his answer.

The deer-caught-in-headlights look Lois currently has makes it clear he got the answer wrong. J’onn doesn’t even get a chance to ask Lois stands up and stares down at her future husband with a murder gleam in her hazel eyes. “It's the day you proposed! How can you not know that?”

“I’m sorry, honey. C’mon, it’s only a game!” Clark replies as she continues to shoot daggers at him.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know that!” she whines one final time before taking her seat again in a huff.

J’onn waits a few moments to make sure Lois is settled down before turning to Mon-El and me. “Let's hope our next contestant isn't wrong, eh?” J’onn says looking at Mon-El with a grin.

“I sure hope so,” Mon-El replies in jest. “She’s got a killer right hook.”

The crowd chuckle and J’onn relaxes again. “Okay, Mon-El. For the championship, tell us: what is Kara’s favorite day?" he asks.

Mon-El waits a beat before answering. “The day her first article got published,” Mon-El says with no hesitation, keeping his eyes on me the entire time.

It takes a minute for me to register what he’s just said. How could he have known that? It’s something I’ve never told anyone; no one knows. Not even Alex or Lena.

J’onn looks at me expectantly, waiting for my confirmation. I look around us and realize the crowd is silent as everyone waits for me to answer. But, I am so shocked that he actually got it right that I am rendered speechless. “Kara, is he right?” J’onn asks.

I tear my gaze from Mon-El’s and turn to look at J’onn. I don’t utter a single word –I can’t– as I slowly lift the white board from its resting place on my lap to reveal the words clearly written in there: “ _My first published article_.”

The other guests gasp and, after a beat, cheer loudly as they see Mon-El is indeed correct. J’onn congratulates us and shakes Mon-El’s hand. Mon-El smiles brightly, jumps off his stool in a heap, and pulls me up for a deep kiss –which I gladly return.

The crowd all whoop as he does so.

“See? I told you I knew you better than anyone,” he whispers with a beatific grin as he releases me.

His eyes shine with an emotion I can’t describe, and goosebumps arise on my arms. Everything about this scenario is confusing to me. I can’t fathom what’s just happened.

J’onn congratulates us some more and then presents us with the ridiculous trophy. I am in a daze as people come up to commend us and Mon-El chats amiably to them as he jokes about the –non-existent– grilling sessions we put each other through to prepare ourselves for the quiz.

I stand there still incapable of speech, completely and astonishingly befuddled.

* * *

 

It’s after midnight by the time we are finally free to go and make our way back to the room.

Once inside Mon-El puts down the silly trophy we received after winning, and begins taking off his jacket and tie.

“I think now we’ve really done it,” he says with a chuckle as he pulls the piece of cloth from around his neck. “Lois will never forgive us for beating her at the quiz tonight.”

I stand by the door frozen, still confused and amazed about how well he truly knows me.

“How did you know?” I ask perplexed.

“Know what?” he asks back, confusion edged on his features.

“How did you know that was my favorite day?” I elaborate. “I’ve never mentioned it to anyone. I mean, we’ve never talked about that… so, how did you know?”

Mon-El throws his jacket and tie on the back of a chair, his back facing me. He undoes the top button of his dress shirt and exhales loudly before turning around to look me in the eye. His whole demeanor suddenly changes, his easy smile is gone and he becomes more serious.

The air is loaded with tension and expectation.

“That day… I was crashing at your place –again– after going through a rough patch with the whole Dana thing, and you guys took me in, as usual,” he says with a small smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “As soon as you entered the apartment, you started bragging about your first article being published. You brought a copy of the magazine and showed the byline that you had underlined with highlighter. There, clearly written, was your name: ‘ _By Kara Danvers_ ’… I remember you were so proud, so excited. You were literally bouncing off the walls telling us the story of how you got the scoop and managed to get to the bottom of it before any other news agency.”

Mon-El takes another step further and another deep breath before continuing, “I will never forget the smile on your face that day. You were glowing. Your eyes, they were-- so bright … like _comets_ ,” he declares. “And that’s how I know that was your favorite day ever.”

During his words we have gravitated towards each other without noticing. All of a sudden, I find myself standing right in front of him; so close, our foreheads nearly touching, our breaths almost mingling.

“I’ve told you before, Kara. And I’ll say it again,” he speaks quietly, as if afraid he’s going to scare me. He gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear and grabs my face with his hands, holding me in place and not letting me go. “I know you, I know everything about you. But it’s only now that I realize what that means… It’s just now that I’ve realized how much there is that I like about you- that I _love_ about you.”

He bites his bottom lip nervously and takes his umpteenth deep breath in the span of three minutes, as if he is psyching himself up for what he has to say next. “I told you that night after our drunk dancing… as we were lying in bed, just as you fell asleep, so I know you didn’t hear me, but…” he pauses and then states softly, “this is not fake for me anymore. I’ve fallen in love with you.”

I can’t seem to catch my breath, my lungs constrict as if all the air has been sucked out of the room. His stare locks me into place, though. I can hear my heart hammering inside my chest. I can hear his own heart hammering inside his chest. I can't look anywhere but into his brilliant gray-blue eyes.

We stand there staring into each other’s eyes with an intensity that has never existed before. Instead of the usual jovial sparkle in his eyes, they shine with a mixture of honesty, hope, longing… and, dare I say it, love.

I should be scared by his use of the ‘L’ word, but surprisingly, I don’t mind. Everything I’ve been feeling this week just falls into place. All my confusing thoughts suddenly make sense now. I finally connect all the dots and no longer have to question what it all means.

I know now.

I care about him, too. Not just as a brother or in a purely sexual way. I care about Mon-El, the person. I care about all of him. I, too, know everything about him, and I, too, love everything about him.

And I, too, want _this_ to be real.

Mon-El looks at me expectantly, I can see his eyes start to fill with pain and his shoulders deflate in defeat. I need to say something, anything. _Now_. However, I don't have the words to articulate what I’m feeling at the moment.  

Well, my impulsiveness is one of my best –or worst– traits. I’ve always been better with actions than with words anyways, so I decide that’s the best course to take right now.

I stand on my tip toes, tilt my head and brush my lips against his.

Mon-El seems shocked by my actions, but it only takes him a second to respond and kiss me back. His hands tangle in my hair and his body presses against mine.

The thrill that runs through my veins at his mere touch is no longer unexpected but exhilarating. I pull him closer and wrap my arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. However, just as Mon-El moves to do just that, we are interrupted by a frantic knocking on the door.

Both Mon-El and I snap out of our daze and jerk our heads towards the loud banging.

“Kara? Kara, it's Dad!” Alex's voice sounds hysterical through the door. “You have to come quick!”

And just like that… my happy bubble bursts.


	14. Author Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this isn't an update, but I owe everyone an explanation.   
> Don't worry, this story will not be discontinued.   
> I will finish this fic if it's the last thing I do!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Warning: I'm about to get real close and personal) 
> 
> Hi, guys!   
> So, I know I've been MIA lately, but well…   
> I have a few things I want to say in lieu of last night's episode, and also, I owe you guys a big ass explanation for my disappearance.

_**Why Supergirl sucks right now for me...** _

These past few months have been hard on both my physical and mental health. I've been dealing with chronic -unbearable and excruciating- pain in my arms, mostly my right wrist, elbow and shoulder, and it goes all the way to the fingers; I basically have all the tendons inflamed from the tips of my fingers all the way up to my neck. That has left me with no inclination to type away at a computer for long hours, when I already must do so forcibly at my job. When my long working hours were done, I found myself just wanting to rest my hands and not continue to type some more. Even when I wanted to, I physically couldn't stand the pain to type anymore. 

Anyways, the pain had increasingly worsened which severely affected my mood and general mental state. They gave me very strong painkillers which helped for a few hours but the pain would inevitably come back. Also they would make me very dizzy and zombielike, and I felt like my mind was made of cotton 90% of the time. I would cry myself to sleep, or not sleep at all due to how bad it was – and sometimes still is. The worse part is no one would give me a long-term solution to the problem. They would bounce ideas and diagnosis, but I was not given a definite answer as to what is causing this and how to fix it. In fact, I'm still going through a sort of medical limbo. Adding to this I was having like an early-life crisis and drowning in hundreds of millions worth of debt (Long story short, my mom's Cancer medical bills), which hasn't helped with my frustration and despondency.

So, here comes a huge #idontmind moment: I am undergoing physical therapy for my arm; and mental therapy to work through all my anxiety and depression issues, but it's not been easy. I locked myself away from the world for months. I have pushed away my family and my friends, and isolated myself almost completely – perhaps the only exception being my dogs – and the more lonely, the more I'd just drown in my desperation and feeling of worthlessness. However, nowadays I'm slowly working on putting myself out there again, trying to communicate my feelings better and not bottling up everything I have going on.

(That's the main reason I haven't updated “Be My Guest”, which I can now promise you, even if it takes me longer than planned, I will finish someday. Please, be patient with me.)

Now, moving on to _Supergirl…_ I can't even begin to tell you how disheartened I feel.

That show used to be a source of joy and hope for me. A remedy for my severe anxiety, and unfortunately now it's become a major cause of it. 

I loved Season 2 because: 1) I related to Mon-El, being kind of a spoiled brat myself, I had to work hard to earn my place and learn to be a selfless person and doing my best to make this world a better place (much like Spiderman's passivity vs. choice); and 2) As as woman, I related to Kara so much. The line: “ _Maybe I can have it all..._ ” still resonates with me. I'm a lawyer and I work for my government in a Civil Tribunal, in a small way my job affects people's life; I can make or break them. Literally. It's up to me (along with a bunch of others) to make decisions that have a heavy impact on the lives of others, and that has a huge influence in my psyque as well. It's not easy when you suffer from too much empathy. Which is why I loved 'Supergirl', and loved watching her deal with the repercussions of being a superhero (you can't save everyone all the time), and balancing both aspects of her life: being a hero and being normal. Her job and her social life. “ _Supergirl is what I can do, Kara is who I am..._ ” Because it's something I've always struggled with, and something I looked up to. I think many of us find it hard to balance what we DO with what we ARE sometimes.

But with this new storytelling, what the writers are telling me is that I CAN'T. I can't have it all. I can't be a hero and have a normal life, too. If I wanna be a strong, independent woman, then I can't have a loving relationship or my own family? I'll always have to sacrifice my own happiness for the happiness of others, and see… here's where I can't accept that.

Because that is BULLSHIT!

My therapist has delved in my inner feelings of guilt and deep sense of duty and responsibility as the main source of my anxiety. I can't say no to people; I'm always putting others before me, and it's taken its toll on me. Because whenever I make a choice considered as "selfish", I immediately drown in guilt and feel horrible about myself. I wanna help my parents, fix the system, save the little guys, serve justice to all, but I'm only human and I can't carry the weight of the world on my shoulders.

It's okay to admit that I need help, and I need to take care of myself.

In my depression -just like Supergirl- I'd drown myself in my work. It came to a point where I was working over twelve hours a day, even weekends, without being paid overtime, trying to keep the office afloat, when that's not on me. A failing government justice system will not be fixed by one overworked woman. That doesn't change the fact that I will continue to do my job (in my paying hours) and do it well, but I shouldn't bite more than I can chew. Everyone should learn their boundaries, and what they are not willing to give up, because if you only work and work and work for others and never for yourself it ultimately leads to dissatisfaction. Which only leads to a deep feeling of frustration. (And it sucks! Trust me, I know...)

So, I feel for Supergirl. Everyone expects her to fix the world alone. And it cannot be done. She needs help. She needs to take care of herself.

Kara deserves happiness and a balanced life. Just as much I do. Just like anyone does.

She should be able to have a vacation in Argo, to explore her Kryptonian roots, to have her friends and family, and a relationship if she wants… she should be able to take a break, and still be Supergirl. Why are her options always mutually exclusive?

I learned the hard way that you can't keep sacrificing everything all the time, it will come the day where you have nothing left to give.

So much for being a show that advocates for mental health awareness, all you're doing is giving your protagonist the perfect formula for an imminent mental breakdown.

Oh, and don't even get me started on the sheer amount of plot holes, wasted plot lines and character development, or inane praising of undeveloped characters. (This is a personal opinion, so if you disagree, that's fine… please don't come at me, I'm just trying to make a point about how I feel about Season 3 of Supergirl) I felt this season suffered a lot from poor writing; writers would turn around and literally forget what was said and done two scenes ago. I had a problem like that with 'The Last Jedi' (If you like the movie, that's completely okay, but I personally couldn't enjoy it.) They had so much build-up on 'The Force Awakens' and nothing got resolved satisfyingly, or worse, it was dropped completely; I know it was supposed to be “audience subversion”, but I think there's a difference between subverting fans and just lazy writing that just pisses of your core fanbase. I felt the same in Season 3, we literally spent twenty-fucking-two episodes building up to this – I'm overlooking the many huge and obvious plot holes along the way… Episode 15, I'm mostly looking at you – and then it all got dropped in a minute (Literally a one-minute scene.) Even worse when you cater to such hateful and toxic group of people, that made it all ten times worse for me. **It's like everything that's wrong with the real world has invaded the escapism Supergirl once brought me.**

Ah, so much potential wasted… You had Mon-El of Daxam, a freaking awesome Leggionaire… and THAT is the best you can come up with for such an iconic comic book character? I hate when movies or tv shows demean men in order to empower females. That's not what feminism stands for. That's not equality. Instead of making him a true partner and counterpart to Kara (and I'm not even talking romantically, because if he was only for two seasons I don't get what was the point), you diminished the character every time they found themselves in equal footing. It was infuriating.

I'm a woman working in an environment that's majorly dominated by men. Being a female lawyer is not easy because you're usually thought of as "weak" or "too emotional", and then working in a public office is about ten times worse. Nevertheless, 2/3 of my bosses so far in my life have been female, and believe me, being a “badass female boss” doesn't exempt you of being a GOOD person. The first female boss I had was a domineering abusive middle-age lady who constantly yelled at me and told me to shut up because my opinion didn't matter to her. My current boss is a female Judge who seeks my counsel and respects my decision making. So when I see female empowerment by man-shaming, I just can't get on board. I don't agree. I don't think it's right. You should never have to put others down just to pull yourself up. Ever.

Lastly, about the whole the door being open for Mon-El to come back in the future, I just feel is more baiting. Jessica said: “Mon-El is not going anywhere.” And now they're saying it was their plan all along to send him away at the end of this season. Maybe it's my current defeatist mental state, but I don't really think they mean it. They're a bunch of liars that don't really care about the actual story they're telling; they care more about pushing their agendas and generating drama, because apparently drama sells. I feel they're just saying that to get us to keep watching the show in the hopes of getting our happy ending down the line, which will never come. (And if one day I have to eat my words, then so be it… better for me. I'd be pleasantly surprised. )

That being said, I am done watching the show, regretfully. I can't support it anymore. They've sucked all the goodness it once held for me, it's sadly become unhealthy for me. I can honestly say this show no longer brings me any sense of fulfillment or bliss.

For my mental health I've stayed away from Tumblr -so if you've tried to reach me, I'm so sorry-, and I try to steer clear as much as possible on Twitter; that's why I'm doing this here, because it's the only place I've ever really felt completely welcomed and comfortable. Sorry for the long rant -I know I went a little all over the place, I just had a lot to say and a lot of feelings that had to come out. And so sorry that it wasn't an update, but I'm slowly working on it.

I'd like to say I wish I'd never watched 'Supergirl' in the first place, but I can't. I sincerely loved these characters and for a while, at least, they made me truly happy. Karamel has been the only ship that gave me enough courage to get over my fear and publish my writing; and you, my wonderful Karamel fam have been so supportive and amazing. Never in a million years would I have imagined the response I'd get. So, thank you, from the bottom of my icy heart! Thank you for every word of encouragement, every nice comment, every kudo, even the quiet ones that just read the fanfic -just like me-, I hope the universe pays you back in kind all you have given me. You'll never know how much it means to me… thank you so much. (Btw. I know I haven't replied to all your comments, I promise I'll get to them as soon as I can.)

I'll see you back here again, soon.

With all my love,

Janey

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it!  
> I want to hear your thoughts on this!!!  
> See you next time... xx
> 
> P.S. I'm @ms-jane-darcy on Tumblr.


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